Lost Moments
by ShayaLonnie
Summary: Behind The Boy Who Lived, two friends fall in love in the middle of a war. — Ron/Hermione moments between OotP and DH (Pre-Epilogue). Mostly follows Canon with a bit of creative manipulation.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning** : Rated T for language, violence, and sensuality. For further disclaimers and warnings, make sure to read my profile.

 **Beta Love** : Fluffpanda and TequilaMockingbirdWrites

 **A/N** : I originally posted this fic Aug 2014 after binge reading the books and watching the movies (not for the first time). High on Harry Potter canon, I wanted to fill in the blanks of the Ron/Hermione story. Over the year my OTPs have changed dramatically and I no longer write/read Romione pairings, but I have had even some die hard Dramione fans say nice things about Lost Moments, so I didn't want to delete it. Instead, I've decided to revamp the story, edit it, and repost. I hope you all enjoy.

 _ **** Everything in italics is taken directly from the books.**_

[Updated Nov 2016]

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

 **December 1994**

 _"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione, loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, isn't she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."_

 _But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light._

Her face flushed like it often did when she was angry or frustrated with him. Not a blush in the centre of her cheeks, but high on her neck as though the blood were pumping straight from her heart, furiously up to her mouth in order to give it constant fuel for the battery of insults and quips she would make toward him during one of their general rows. It was the flush that caught his attention as he watched her skin turn slightly pink and rise against the hollow point against her collarbone. As if his body were trying to subconsciously colour coordinate, the tips of his ears turned pink and he quickly brought his eyes up from her neck to her face, hoping he hadn't been caught staring.

 _"Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl..."_

 _"Oh well spotted," she said acidly._

 _"Well - can't you come with one of us?"_

He was trying to be as subtle as possible, though the idea that she would accept his offer only to end up going to the Ball with Harry made the tips of his ears turn from pink to red rather quickly. He wasn't quite sure what it was that he'd noticed about Hermione in the split second that it took for her neck to flush, but he knew that it crossed a line in their friendship and, unlike everything else in his entire life, it was something he wasn't willing to share with anyone.

 _"No, I can't," snapped Hermione._

 _"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."_

It would be stupid if he'd been genuine with his reasoning. Saying exactly what he felt wasn't his strong suit unless he was angry and even then his words were truth and exaggerations littered with swears. Playing on her pity seemed an easy bet. She hated it when he and Harry worried over tests and homework, and she would jump at the chance to help them just so they didn't come off looking stupid or inadequate.

 _"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."_

 _"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"_

 _"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else spotted I'm a girl!"_

He knew she was a girl. He wasn't that thick. She slept in a different dormitory after all. They'd been friends for years and all of a sudden she was upset that he didn't notice? What? Was he supposed to approach her every so often and remind her that she was a girl just in case she forgot? Her bitterness aside at his lack of attention over gender, Ron suddenly began feeling anxious, and not over the idea of going to the ball alone—though that too was weighing on his mind—but that Hermione seemed so intent on the fact that she was going with someone else. She was a terrible liar, especially when it came to him. Her morals were too high and, though she'd lied from time to time over the years, Ron felt that he knew the telltale signs of a Hermione fib and she wasn't showing any of them. He looked closer at her face, waiting for an eye to twitch or for her to scratch her left ear. She didn't.

 _Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. "Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"_

Give her what she wants, then maybe she'll calm down and see reason.

 _"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!" And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again._

His heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he watched her leave. He felt foolish that he'd pushed so far only to get no where, and hoped that no one else caught on to his lack of effort attempt at getting a date with Hermione. But not really a date. Just someone to go with. She was his best friend; he couldn't date his best friend. It would be like dating Harry. It would be like dating Ginny! He paused as the thoughts rolled over in his head and he turned his eyes to his little sister who seemed to glare at him as if he'd done something wrong, and immediately he shook his head and widened his glance as he turned away from her. Okay, so it wouldn't be like dating Ginny. Hermione was nothing like a sister to him. But he felt suddenly protective over her like he'd always been with Ginny. Like the idea of her going to the ball with someone made him angry. The thought of someone putting his grubby mitts on her waist, or holding her hand, or kissi . . . no. She had to be lying.

Of course, she hadn't been lying at all.

* * *

 **August 1995**

Ron's heavy eyelids blinked open and he looked over at the empty bed across the room in Grimmauld Place.

It was still dark out, and thank Merlin he still had a chance to go back to sleep for several hours before his mum would wake the whole house to get everyone started cleaning again. He had no idea what the purpose was for that infernal elf if the rest of them were meant to get the place in living condition. He paused for a moment and drew his gaze across the room to the door which remained firmly shut. He couldn't help but wonder if Hermione was awake, as he began recalling his dream.

He hadn't learned much in the few months since the Yule Ball, and the idea of someone _else_ putting his grubby mitts on her waist, holding her hand . . . someone _else_ —someone other than him—kissing her . . . he couldn't think about it. He hadn't even realised he'd wanted to kiss her. Then again, earlier that morning the two had gotten into a row, and between her yelling at him and Mrs. Black's portrait screaming obscenities floors below, he had wanted to silence at least one of them. In the middle of Hermione lecturing him on his lazy attitude, the thought of covering her mouth with his own in order to shut her up came into his mind. It caused him to flush all the way to his ears, apologise and then quickly leave the room.

He closed his eyes now in his bed, tightly, to rid himself of the shameful memory. With a little luck he fell back asleep before the need to open them again arose.

* * *

 **December 1994**

 _"Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron._

 _He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."_

Why would he make fun of her? Unless she was going with someone completely ridiculous. It wasn't Neville. Seamus and Dean had dates already. He couldn't help but imagine it was someone younger, and immediately the hilarious image of Dennis Creevey trying to dance with Hermione while craning his head to look up at her face came into his mind and he let out a sharp laugh, which Hermione heard and then immediately scowled at him.

The question lingered in his head for much too long and, after a while, he stopped even caring about who he'd end up going with himself. Days on end he was perplexed by her lack of information, often resulting in telling himself over and over that she was lying just to bother him. But why did it bother him?

 _"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. "Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle._

"Ickle Ronniekins jealous of Granger's new boyfriend?" Fred grinned as he launched another snowball at his younger brother, effectively smacking him in the chin.

Ron turned and growled at his brother, grabbing a fist full of snow in his hand and throwing it. Unfortunately, he'd broken rule number one in fighting against one of the twins: there were two of them, so always have double the ammo.

Just as Fred ducked the lame assault, George appeared with an armful of snowballs as he charged at Ron, fist raised in the air as though he were carrying an invisible banner of war. By the time the fight ended, Ron was drenched, freezing, and face down in the snow with his brothers dancing victoriously around him.

"Don't worry, little brother," George said with a grin. "If you don't get a date of your own soon, you won't have to go and watch up close and personal..."

"As Hermione's date gets up close and personal," Fred finished the sentence with a wink.

Ron's already red face nearly turned purple at the thought and he stood up, shoving Fred backward. All the good it did as he was caught by George. Unfortunately, he thought as he stormed away from them, they had a point. If he didn't get a date soon, he'd miss out on the whole thing, and Ron wanted to see for himself if Hermione had been lying all along.

Finally at the ball with Padma at his side, Ron's eyes widened at the sight of Hermione. She was . . . he wanted to say beautiful, but had she changed all that much between yesterday and now? Certainly, she had. She'd done something to her hair, something that looked great but bothered him at the same time. She wore makeup and a dress. She didn't look like herself. He growled under his breath, an unearthly rage built up inside of him as he looked at the arm that she clung to: Viktor bloody Krum. Not only had the enemy crept into their school, threatening to take away the Tri-Wizard Cup from Harry, but he had the guts to sport a Hogwarts girl on his arm at the ball? And Hermione of all girls!? Hermione, who never wore her hair so calm and collected. Hermione, who never wore dresses and looked so . . . so . . . was she blushing!?

Ron could feel his heartbeat in his throat and he stepped forward only to accidentally land on Padma's foot. His date winced and shot him a daring look, to which he offered a small uncomfortable smile as an apology, his eyes gluing back to Hermione and Krum, not even noticing Harry and Parvati.

 _"How's it going?" Harry asked Ron, sitting down and opening a bottle of butterbeer._

 _Ron didn't answer. He was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby._

"Can you bloody believe this?" Ron scowled, gesturing to the scene in front of them. He watched closely as Hermione and Victor continued dancing. "You think they're going to be at this all night then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I'd imagine so," Harry shrugged. "It is a dance after all."

"I'd imagine so," Ron repeated the words angrily, not paying attention to what he was saying and, instead, just echoing Harry. He'd assumed Harry was just as perturbed as he was, and had answered him with a length of swears that he too, felt were well prepared for the occasion. He wanted to stand up, walk over, and punch Viktor bloody Krum in the face, though even he could truthfully admit that the encounter wouldn't end in his favour. Krum ended the World Cup with a broken and bleeding nose, Snitch in hand. Ron couldn't imagine what would happen if he'd had the courage to confront him, but still, the idea was abundantly tempting. Certainly Ron could get in at least one good hit to the face before he'd end up in the Hospital Wing.

As Hermione approached with a bright smile, he barely had enough sense to put insults and accusations together, but they seemed to somehow string along just fine without much effort and attention. He couldn't attack Krum without serious physical repercussions, but Hermione had agreed to go as his rudding date, so he felt that she shared the blame.

 _"Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"_

 _"He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You - you're fraternising with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"_

 _"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with… He's just trying to get closer to Harry - get inside information on him - or get near enough to jinx him -"_

Eventually she'd stormed off and it took Ron several moments to catch up with the argument they'd just had. Whatever had been said, he appeared to have won. Although, now he didn't feel like he had a reason to be there. His date was off dancing with her sister and the other students, and with how he'd already treated her, Ron didn't imagine leaving her behind would be all that surprising. Harry had stood up to grab himself another butterbeer and, unable to sit there alone a moment longer in his stupid looking robes, Ron stood up and stormed off to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of going to sleep and forgetting this night had ever happened.

Unfortunately, when he crawled through the portrait hole he came to find a tearful Hermione, crying as she sat on the couch that faced the fireplace. Hands to her face as she quietly sobbed, Ron felt guilt seep into his body like a wind chill. A tissue was clenched tightly in her hand, evidence of smeared eye makeup on it.

The image almost immediately reminded him of second year when Hermione had been petrified, her hand clenching tight to the piece of parchment revealing the information about the basilisk. He recalled how he felt the moment he saw her body, stone-like and immobile in the Hospital Wing. He'd never felt such fear and panic before, not even when facing a troll or being struck down on the giant chess set. No, those experiences he felt he'd had at least a moment or two to prepare for. Despite the fact that the Heir of Slytherin had explicitly called out an attack on Muggleborns, Ron had never actually thought that Hermione would be in any real danger. Danger that he and Harry wouldn't be able to protect her from. After Harry defeated Tom Riddle and Ginny and Hermione were returned to full health, Ron made a promise to himself to never let Hermione get hurt again, and yet here she was, crying in the common room, because of him.

"Hermione . . ." he said, almost in a whisper as he approached her with regret clear on his face.

"You," she looked up at him, her tear stained eyes furious. "Ronald, you ruined everything!" she screamed.

"Me?" He rose a brow defensively. "You've been going about for weeks now knowing that he was your bloody date, and you didn't say a word about it! How's this my fault?!"

"Who I choose to date has nothing to do with you!" She stood up and leaned forward, as though her words would reach him faster if she closed the distance between them.

He scoffed. "Hell it doesn't! You're my best friend and I'm supposed to . . . supposed to . . . you know," he stumbled over his words, "look after you and whatnot." His face reddened and he felt foolish for taking pity on her when she'd clearly been looking for a fight.

Her lips pursed. "I am not your responsibility, Ronald. I am capable of looking after myself, and if you really were my best friend, you would have treated me and my date with some semblance of respect instead of acting like a jealous child!"

He inhaled sharply at her words. "Jealous?!" His eyes widened. "I've . . . not . . . I'm . . . jealous?!" He didn't notice that several of the other Gryffindors had peeked around the stairs of the dormitories to watch the fight. Knowing the two of them, their volume had woken the entire castle. He also didn't catch the portrait opening again and Harry stepping into the room. "What do I have to be jealous of? You're the one who . . . who . . . you shouldn't be dating the enemy!"

 _"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of it's elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger._

 _"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"_

 _"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"_

 _Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry. "Well," he sputtered, looking thunderstruck, "well - that just proves - completely missed the point -"_

* * *

 **August 1995**

"Bloody . . . . rudding . . . " Ron muttered in his sleep, his arms twitching. "Pumpkin head . . ." His right leg kicked out furiously, smacking into the side of the wall, effectively waking him up as he yelled loudly in pain, grasping at his stubbed toes.

Accidentally knocking the bedside table in the process of reaching for his foot, Ron sent his wand and several books to the floor with a loud thud. Floors below, Mrs. Black's portrait began wailing, _"Filth! Unclean! Mudbloods! Traitors!"_ and Ron moaned, knowing that he'd certainly be blamed for waking the entire household. He could only hope that a few Order members were still down in a meeting and would shut the old hag up.

After about thirty seconds or so, Mrs. Black stopped screaming and he thanked Merlin that he was right and someone had been downstairs. He wasn't the only one awake now, of course. With loud _CRACK_ Fred and George Apparated at the foot of Ron's bed. "Oh hell," he muttered as he looked up his twin brothers.

"All right there, ickle Ronnie?" Fred asked.

"Jumping on the bed, are we?" George observed, sticking a lit wand in Ron's face.

Fred raised a brow. "All by our lonesome?"

George smirked. "If you're going to have a wank, learn to keep it quiet, yeah? The decent people in this house are trying to get some innocent shut eye . . ."

". . . And don't need to hear you shouting from beneath the sheets."

"Get out," Ron snapped, grabbing his wand from his side table and muttering " _Lumos_!" so he could see if his toes were bleeding. "I wasn't . . . having a . . ." He scowled at them.

The door to his room opened and Hermione stood, one hand clutching the door handle, the other on her lit wand as she looked around the room frantically, having heard the commotion. "Everything all right?"

"Er . . ." Ron muttered looking up at her, pulling the sheet up around him quickly at the sound of her voice.

Fred and George immediately both cackled. "We'll let you get back to business," Fred said with a smirk and then he and George disapperated with another loud _CRACK_.

Ron turned back to Hermione, noticing immediately that her pyjamas were the same colour as the dress she'd worn to the Yule Ball and, suddenly, his dream came back into focus taking any leftover brain function away from his ability to answer her properly.

"Bad sleep . . . dreams, you know, nothing too bad." His ears turned pink as he tried to recover the fact that he'd might as well have told her that a nightmare woke him and now he was hoping to go sleep in his parents bed. "I'm fine now, though," he lied as images of her dancing with Viktor Krum were still branded into the back of his eyelids any time he blinked. "Go back to sleep, Hermione."

"Well . . . " Hermione frowned at the idea that Ron was having nightmares. After everything they'd been through in the last few months, she'd hoped that Ron would be able to at least talk about it if he was having a hard time adjusting. Between Cedric's gruesome death, the inability to write to Harry about anything important lest they face Dumbledore, and the fact that Voldemort had returned, Hermione had expected everyone—especially Ron—to be uneasy. But unfortunately, they relied on the Order to keep them informed, and Hermione trusted that the adults had things taken care of.

She smiled softly at him. "Get some rest."

"Night," Ron managed to mutter out after the door was closed and then collapsed backwards into bed. "Bloody brilliant." Ron smacked himself in the side of the head. "Right git, you are."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

 **September 1995**

Hermione had assumed that once Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, things would begin to look up. Unfortunately, stress continued to build and build between everyone, and there didn't seem a moment's reprieve. Even the hours that dragged on with cleaning, the tension in the air was so thick that she silently begged someone to cut it.

Harry had been cross with each of them for avoiding him, lying to him, keeping secrets, and especially leaving him with the Dursley's alone. She felt awfully guilty for her part in it, but what was she supposed to do? Ignore Dumbledore's direct orders? She'd broken several rules over the course of her time at Hogwarts, but disobeying the Headmaster directly when one of her most important years was approaching? She couldn't. Even though she doubted Dumbledore was the type of man to hold a grudge against a student for what they did on holiday, she had her O.W.L.s to think of, and anything jeopardising that caused her to panic.

It wasn't just Harry though, nor was it even the rest of the Order—amongst them Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, who couldn't seem to speak to one another without arguing—Mundungus's presence always put someone in a bad mood, and from time to time Professor Snape would appear causing everyone to grow tense. But no, the problems with the Order left little guilt on Hermione's conscience because she couldn't do much to help at this stage. Ron, however . . .

She'd made a right mess of things when their prefect badges had arrived.

Hermione had come tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying, an envelope clutched tightly in her hand.

 _'Did you-did you get-?' She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek. 'I knew it!' she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. 'Me too, Harry, me too!'_

 _'No,' said Harry quickly, pushing the badge back into Ron's hand. 'It's Ron, not me.'_

 _'It-what?'_

 _'Ron's prefect, not me,' Harry said._

 _'Ron?' said Hermione, her jaw dropping. 'But ... are you sure? I mean-' She turned red as Ron looked round at her with a defiant expression on his lace._

 _'It's my name on the letter,' he said._

 _'I...' said Hermione, looking thoroughly bewildered. 'I ... well ... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really-'_

 _'Unexpected,' said George, nodding._

 _'No,' said Hermione, blushing harder than ever, 'no it's not ... Ron's done loads of ... he's really...'_

She'd assumed it would have been Harry. Why wouldn't it have been? Certainly his school work wasn't on par with what it should be, but he'd saved the school so many times already, not to mention he'd been privileged to be placed on the Quidditch team as a first year. Even when she doubted herself getting the prefect badge, she'd always assumed Harry still would. It had nothing to do with Ron.

But the look on his face when she'd questioned the seriousness of him becoming prefect . . . she couldn't stomach how the guilt was making her feel. She'd mucked it all up and an immediate apology was out of the question. Ron had already been hurt by her assumptions.

But he _had_ done loads! Granted, not the usual things one did to earn a prefect badge. Hers had been worked hard for, and in the usual manner. But hadn't Ron done the same things as Harry? Or, at least, similarly?

Determined to save face in front of Ron's brothers and offer up an apology to Ron himself, Hermione readied herself to list off Ron's accomplishments. He'd bravely faced a troll and saved her life, he'd sacrificed himself to save her and Harry and the mission on the massive chess board, he'd accompanied Harry into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue his sister. He was brave and smart and . . . and . . . brilliant. But Hermione didn't have a chance to say any of it as Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room and the first glimpse of Ron's badge meant that no one could get a word in edgewise as she positively shrieked, promising Ron a gift for his accomplishment. A broom, in fact. How could Hermione apologise now when a new broomstick was in Ron's future. What could she offer him that could compare?

 _'You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?' said Fred in a falsely anxious voice._

 _'We could curtsey, if you like,' said George._

 _'Oh, shut up,' said Ron, scowling at them._

 _'Or what?' said Fred, an evil grin spreading across his face. 'Going to put us in detention?'_

 _'I'd love to see him try,' sniggered George._

 _'He could if you don't watch out!' said Hermione angrily._

 _Fred and George burst out laughing, and Ron muttered, 'Drop it, Hermione.'_

Her cheeks flushed from embarrassment as hurt sunk deep inside of her. Not only had she essentially said he was unworthy of the badge when it had first arrived by her simple surprise, but now she had gone and tried to defend him—to Fred and George of all people—and clearly humiliated him further.

She wished that they had more time at Grimmauld Place. There was little chance to make it up to Ron, and the hours spent cleaning the many floors of the old Black Manor could have offered her moments alone, should she and Ron be assigned the same chore. It would have given her an opportunity to fix things. But as it was, they were set to leave for King's Cross any minute now, and she could already hear the crowd below getting things ready to leave; Mrs. Weasley screaming up the stairs, alerting everyone to the time and how much longer they had to be ready.

Hermione turned to exit her room and without looking, bumped directly into Ron. She cast a frown, apologising profusely for her lack of grace as she watched him drop a handful of items onto the floor, including his prefect badge. Rushing to help, Hermione bent down and snatched the badge up immediately.

She smiled. "Better not lose this."

"I won't," he snapped at her. "I may not deserve it, but I'm not about to go and toss it in the bin."

"I didn't mean . . . " Hermione frowned. "I only meant . . ." She paused looking down at the badge in her hand and used the sleeve of her shirt to give it a quick shine before she held it up to Ron's chest with a smile. "There," she said quietly. "I think it'll look quite smart on you."

Ron, caught off guard, blinked a few times as Hermione called him smart. No, she said he would _look_ smart. No, she said the _badge_ looked smart. Either way, he suddenly didn't feel as stupid as he had three seconds ago.

"I . . . uh . . " Ron struggled to find something to say.

 _Hiss!_

"Crookshanks!" Hermione looked down and sighed, removing her hand from Ron's chest, thrusting the badge into his hand as she rushed down to snatch up her cat. "How did you get out of your carriage?" She chased the ginger feline around a corner before he stopped and allowed her to pick him up, when she turned back, Ron had disappeared. She had little time to think before a thunderous noise avalanched down the stairs, followed by screaming.

 _'-COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS-'_

 _'-FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-'_

After checking to make sure everyone was all right, Hermione went back upstairs to check on the boys while at the same time avoid getting caught up in any arguments that could happen as she spotted a large black dog making his way down the hall, pausing to wink up at Hermione and Crookshanks. She knew Mrs. Weasley was against Sirius coming to King's Cross with them, and wasn't wanting to be there for the fallout.

 _'WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!' Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room._

Finally aboard the train, Hermione felt a sense of familiarity returning to her. The entire summer had been nothing but new things happening every day and while she was always thrilled to learn something new, with little practical ability to help, she grew more and more frustrated, especially since she'd left her own family early on in the hopes that her presence at Grimmauld Place would be useful. Instead, she and the younger Weasley children had been unpaid labour. Although, she didn't reflect too much on the tiresome work considering it both improved the living conditions for Sirius, left a clean and safe meeting house for the Order, and also helped take some of the workload off of the poor old Kreacher's shoulders.

 _'Shall we go and find a compartment, then?' Harry asked._

 _Ron and Hermione exchanged looks._

 _'Er,' said Ron._

 _'We're-well-Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage,' Hermione said awkwardly._

 _Ron wasn't looking at Harry; he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on his left hand._

 _'Oh,' said Harry. 'Right. Fine.'_

 _'I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey,' said Hermione quickly. 'Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time.'_

 _'Fine,' said Harry again. 'Well, I-I might see you later, then.'_

 _'Yeah, definitely,' said Ron, casting a shifty, anxious look at Harry. 'It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather-but we have to-I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy,' he finished defiantly._

Hermione sighed as she and Ron walked away, leaving Harry behind. "I feel awful. He's spent all summer alone and the moment we step foot on the train, we're forced to abandon him."

"We could just go back," Ron suggested.

Hermione looked at him with a reproachful expression. "You know we have duties to attend to."

"Just offering to lift your guilty conscience over abandoning our poor lonely friend." He grinned at her and Hermione frowned. "He'll be fine, Hermione," Ron groaned. "At least _he_ gets to eat."

Draco Malfoy appeared in front of them, blocking their way to the prefect carriage. "Lost, Weasel? You can't possibly be a prefect. I doubt you're even smart enough to spell it." Pansy Parkinson at his side shrieked with laughter.

"As a matter of fact he is," Hermione scowled at Draco. "And unlike some people," she eyed Draco's prefect badge, "he didn't have to buy his way into the position," she said, defending Ron proudly and watched out of the corner of her eye as he seemed to stand a little taller, not that he needed to as he already towered over the rest of them.

"Doubt he could afford the attempt if he wanted to," Malfoy replied with a laugh, and immediately Ron's chest deflated. "What's that like Weasley? Owning something so shiny and new for the first time in your life? Or did they just hand down your brother's old badge like everything else you own?"

Ron took a step forward, his ears turning red. "You ruddy little ferret—"

Hermione instinctively reached a hand out to stop him, normally a job reserved for Harry as he was the quicker and stronger of the two. But Harry wasn't here, and with Malfoy as a prefect, reining in Ron's temper was a job left to Hermione. A near impossible task. She placed a firm hand on Ron's chest, her narrowed gaze fixed on Malfoy.

"Everything you own is a hand-me-down," Draco grinned maliciously. "Everything from your ratty robes and books," he looked at Hermione, "all the way down to your little girlfriend. How's Viktor Krum doing, Mudblood?" he asked her.

Hermione's temper flared herself, immediately reminded of third year and how unbelievably satisfying it had been to smack his rat-like little face, but she was more worried about Ron as she watched him move for his wand at the mention of the offensive term. She quickly reached for his hand with her free one, locking her fingers around his own before he could grab it his wand. Draco laughed in their faces before turning back with Pansy to walk side by side into the prefect carriage.

Ron took another step forward and Hermione pushed one hand harder against his chest, tightening her grip on his fingers with her other. "Just wait," she pleaded with him. "Let them find their seats and we'll go in and avoid them. No need to get your badge taken away before we even get to Hogwarts."

Ron paused at her words, doing what little he could to try to calm his temper and, after a few moments of breathing, he noticed that her hands were still touching him. One was firm in place against his chest, the other holding tightly around his long fingers as they hovered over the pocket where he kept his wand. Both connections left a warm sensation and he took a deep breath as the warmth spread out across his chest from one point, up his hand and arm from another, eventually connecting in the middle where he noticed his heart beating rapidly.

After a few moments, Hermione withdrew her hands from him but the warmth her touch had caused remained behind and even increased as he looked down and watched her as she tenderly adjusted his badge with a seemingly proud smile.

Maybe being a prefect wouldn't be so bad.

They'd entered the prefect cabin to find many familiar faces, though the Head Boy and Girl at the front were strangers to them. Two Ravenclaws, a girl with long brown hair pulled back in tidy plaits, and a boy who seemed like brunette copy of Percy—glasses and all—his nose high in the air, looking over the new fifth year prefects as though examining them before he'd give his final approval before launching into a well prepared speech about honour and duty and responsibility that had Ron itching to take the badge off and leap out of the train window.

Hermione sat, enraptured with the words, a quill and small parchment already in hand taking notes while the other fifth year prefects stared at her incredulously with raised brows, whispering amongst themselves. The sixth and seventh years sat in the back of the carriage, talking quietly, having already heard this speech before, and Ron couldn't help but look to the next three years where he'd be stuck in this carriage the moment he stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

"—detentions as well as points," the Head Boy continued on. "Don't show preferential treatment to your own Houses, it will be noticed." He scowled specifically at the Slytherins and Draco smirked back at him as though being challenged. "The prefect bathroom is on the fifth floor, left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Password this year is 'Scourgify'. Remember that the private bathroom is a privilege, something that has been earned and like your badges, can be taken away."

While a private bathroom seemed like a nice change of pace, especially after sharing one with his entire family back at the Burrow and then again with all the other Gryffindor boys at Hogwarts, Ron couldn't see much punishment in taking away a fancy loo.

"What he means," the Head Girl interrupted as the fifth years began whispering, "is that you are now all responsible for upholding a standard of behaviour, and the private bathroom is not an available space for you to run off and snog," she said with a stern glare.

Ron's blue eyes widened and he tried to suppress a laugh. Draco responded to the announcement by grinning deviously and slipping his arm around Pansy Parkinson, which ultimately caused her to giggle (though it sounded more like a pig snorting) and causing Ron to blanche at the disgusting display.

He couldn't help but wonder if, after Ginny caught him snogging Penelope Clearwater a few years ago, Percy had finally grown some bollocks and broken a few rules, taking his girlfriend up to the fifth floor to have a go. Unlikely. The only thing interesting about Percy was the fact that he'd actually—miraculously—convinced a girl to date him in the first place. Shaking the thought of his traitorous prat of a brother, Ron turned toward Hermione, eager to share a laugh about the bathroom rules, but stopped as he noticed she looked scandalised at the suggestion that anyone would use a private bathroom for snogging.

Reacting to the blush in her face, Ron remembered immediately his dream over the summer of the Yule Ball, and the way he felt when he thought about Viktor Krum touching her waist, holding her hand, and kissing her. Suddenly feeling both protective and possessive over her, Ron sat up straight and alert, almost hoping that Draco made another comment. Unfortunately, he didn't, and the Slytherins were the first to exit the carriage once the long-winded speech was over, followed by the rest of the prefects save for Ron and Hermione, the latter of whom remained behind to ask further questions of the Head Boy and Girl. Despite how hungry he was, and eager to go find Harry, Ron felt compelled to wait for her.

"There's so much to prepare for," Hermione said with a happy smile on her face as she looked over her notes, finally leaving the cabin, mentally planning to re-write them later in order of importance.

"You're not going to make a schedule for me are you?" Ron winced at the thought as they walked back through the train.

"There's no need," Hermione said. "One's already been made up. Weren't you listening?" She narrowed her eyes slightly at him.

"They kinda lost me after snogging in the loo." Ron chuckled.

Hermione's face flushed, shaking her head and drawing her focus back down to her lists. "I can't believe that prefects would—"

Ron laughed. "Why not? Prefects get the mickey taken out of them constantly," he said, immediately thinking of Fred and George. "Giving out detention, taking away points, and private time in a private bathroom seem like pretty good compensation."

"Are you saying that you . . ." She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him as though he'd personally offended her. "Ron, don't you dare abuse your privileges, especially . . ." She stammered. "Not like . . ."

Ron raised an incredulous brow. "What? You think I'm gonna bring someone up to the bathroom? Who'd even have a go with me? Harry had to get me a damn date to the bloody Yule Ball," he said with a scowl.

"Language," she reminded him. "Well," Hermione continued to walk on quickly, "I'm glad you'll be taking this responsibility seriously."

"When did I agree to that?" Ron called after her.

Once they'd found Harry's compartment and taken their seats inside with Harry, Neville, and Luna, they each began telling them the details of the meeting and who all the new prefects were. Hermione packed away her list of notes into her bag as she informed them all that Draco and Pansy had been chosen as Slytherin prefects.

 _'Who are Hufflepuff's?' Harry asked._

 _'Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott,' said Ron thickly._

 _'And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,' said Hermione._

 _'You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil,' said a vague voice._

 _Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler._

 _He swallowed his mouthful of Frog. 'Yeah, I know I did,' he said, looking mildly surprised._

 _'She didn't enjoy it very much,' Luna informed him._

Hermine couldn't help but suppress a small grin. After the whole mess Ron had caused over the Yule Ball, she was glad that his date had gone poorly. Of course, perhaps Padma would have had a decent date had Ron not put his entire focus on Viktor Krum. Although Hermione hadn't been overly concerned for Padma's happiness at the ball being Ron's date. Granted the entire thing had been set up by Harry and Parvati, but Hermione felt a twinge of jealousy toward the girl and, though she knew it was petty, she felt some kind of victory that the night hadn't gone well for the Ravenclaw Patil sister.

 _'We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often,' he told Harry and Neville, 'and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something...'_

 _'You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!' said Hermione sharply._

She was immediately reminded of the rules regarding the bathroom, hoping that Ron wouldn't break them even though he seemed determined to undermine the rest of their responsibilities. The thought of Ron up in the bathroom—of all places—kissing some girl . . . someone other than . . .

 _'Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all,' said Ron sarcastically._

Hermione blanched at the thought, remembering Draco's reaction to the bathroom rules was to scoot up to Pansy. The image of the two of them locked at the lips, smushed into a bathroom stall caused her stomach to turn and she was suddenly very glad that they'd missed the food trolley.

 _'So you're going to descend to his level?'_

 _'No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine.'_

 _'For heaven's sake, Ron-'_

 _'I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing,' said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle's low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. 'I ... must ... not ... look ... like ... a ... baboon's ... backside.'_

 _Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood._

 _She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. Luna laughed so hard her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor. 'That was funny!'_

Hermione scowled at the girl. Ron's joke was certainly not _that_ funny, and she couldn't help but wonder if Luna was compensating as a way to try and get his attention. She'd seen this ridiculous behaviour last year after the Yule Ball was announced. Girls would walk around Hogwarts, tilting their heads, flipping their hair, wiggling their hips as they walked, and giggling loudly as they spoke to boys. It was shameful and embarrassing to her gender.

Hermione immediately began picturing Ron locked away on the fifth floor prefect bathroom, locked at the lips, smushed into a bathroom stall with Luna Lovegood, his hands threading through the girl's long, blond hair. It wasn't as beautiful or as shiny, but it immediately reminded Hermione of Fleur Delacour's hair, and she began wondering if Ron had a type. The thought caused her nose to twitch in disgust and contempt as she drew her attention to the luggage rack to angrily fetch Crookshanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

 **September 1995**

Hermione found little time to focus on thoughts of Luna, or any girl for that matter, trying to get Ron's attention. Between Dolores Umbridge sneaking her way into the school, Hagrid missing, O.W.L.s in the foreseeable future, and all their prefect duties—not to mention constantly trying to monitor Fred and George as they attempted to poison their first year test subjects—Hermione barely felt she had time leftover to be a friend to Harry, who really needed one considering most of the school thought he was a lying nutter.

It was all she could do to try and keep Ron on top of his prefect duties, which he'd already been slacking on, in addition to a growing pile of homework that she refused to help him with until the very last second. Unfortunately, her efforts would need to double, if not triple, as Ron became aware that a spot had opened up on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

All the stress was getting to her and she worried about what would happen when it actually came time for the exams. Despite Ron having Quidditch training to get out his aggression, his apparent lack of confidence just added to the tension which he brought back to the common room and immediately took out on Hermione, who scolded him for procrastinating his homework and pushing all of his prefect duties off on her. The two hadn't argued so much in the entire time they'd known each other—with the exception of third year, when Ron was under the assumption that Crookshanks had eaten his stupid rat.

After a particularly nasty lesson in Potions, Hermione tried to offer Harry her thoughts on Snape as a way of sympathising.

 _'I did think he might be a bit better this year,' said Hermione in a disappointed voice. 'I mean ... you know ...' she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of them and nobody was passing the table ' ... now he's in the Order and everything.'_

 _'Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots,' said Ron sagely. 'Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?'_

 _'I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron,' snapped Hermione._

 _'Oh, shut up, the pair of you,' said Harry heavily, as Ron opened his mouth to argue back. Hermione and Ron both froze, looking angry and offended. 'Can't you give it a rest?' said Harry. 'You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad.' And abandoning his shepherd's pie, he swung his school bag back over his shoulder and left them sitting there._

"Can you believe that git?" Ron bellowed.

"Ronald," Hermione scolded him. "Can you sympathise with him at all? Harry's going through a lot right now."

His brow furrowed. "Like we're not?"

She looked down and sighed. "It would be nice if he stopped taking his temper out on us."

"My fault really," Ron said, embarrassed. "I've just been rubbish at everything so far this year. Haven't put much effort into thinking what he's going through, I guess. Awful how everyone's treating him. You should have heard the things Seamus said."

Hermione turned and looked up at Ron, a frown on her face. "You're not rubbish," she said as though she'd only heard that, forgetting all about Harry's temper tantrum.

Ron scoffed.

"You're not!" she said, raising her voice. "You just put too much pressure on yourself. And you could do with adjusting some priorities," she added quietly. "But I wish you'd stop thinking so poorly of yourself. You're a Gryffindor. Do you think the Sorting Hat would put any old rubbish in Gryffindor?"

"Well, there's Neville," Ron suggested. "Seamus is a prat," he added. "Lavender and Parvati are Gryffindor's somehow, and so's Colin Creevey. Percy was a Gryffindor, and no one's more rubbish than he is. And somehow the bloody hat let in Peter Pettigrew and—".

"Ugh!" Hermione scowled at him. "Can't you even take a compliment when it's handed to you on a silver platter?!"

Ron raised a brow. "Silver platter? What? Just saying I ain't rubbish?".

"Can we not argue anymore?" Hermione pleaded loudly. "It's exhausting, Ronald!"

He grinned crookedly at her. "We've been having rows since the moment we met. Can't tell me you're tired of it just now," he said, trying to break up the tension.

"Yes," she argued. "I'm tired of fighting with you. I don't like it."

He smirked. "Yes you do."

She took one of her books and swatted him in the arm, which only seemed to make him smile wider. "You are infuriating!"

"Can't you let me have this one thing, Hermione?" he asked with a chuckle in the back of his throat as he raised his arm up to defend himself against another potential onslaught, happy to know that she'd never hex him in front of so many people.

"Give you what?" she angrily asked.

He grinned. "Can't you see? Getting you riled up like this is the one thing I'm really good at." His eyes lit up as he saw her expression of shock, followed quickly by annoyance. "If they offered it as a class, I might even get an OWL in it," he said with a smirk. "Maybe even a NEWT."

"You are insufferable!" she said, standing up and grabbing her books and bag. "Go tell Harry that we're not arguing anymore!" she ordered him.

"But we are . . ." Ron said in an almost sing-song voice.

"He doesn't need to know that! Fix this!" she insisted, and then stormed out of the Great Hall.

Ron grinned as he turned to watch her rush off, a small smile of pride creeping onto his jaw as he revelled in his ability to provoke her into such a passionate display. _Viktor Krum probably couldn't do that,_ he thought smugly.

Despite being furious at him for constantly picking a fight with her over the last few days, Hermione forced herself to go and watch the Quidditch tryouts, knowing that Ron was upset over Harry not being able to attend due to detention with Umbridge. She offered him a kind smile as he walked out onto the pitch, broom clutched tightly in hand.

"Good luck, Ron," she said, reaching out to pat him on the back, but he barely registered she was there, staring ominously up at the goal posts he was set to guard. She watched quietly from the stands, her nose stuck in a book while she waited for Ron's turn.

"Weasley!" Angelina Johnson cried. "You're up!"

Hermione brought herself to attention as she looked up to see Ron fly to his position in front of the goals. The Chasers in place, Hermione winced as, one by one, they flew around, throwing the Quaffle at him. He wasn't very good, and Hermione frowned wondering if Fred and George had said something to him before he took flight. Once when he was focused on something else, Katie Bell threw the Quaffle and he caught it at the last minute, but the force of the throw nearly knocked him off his broom. Hermione gasped in a panic, reaching for her wand, readying herself to perform a Cushioning Charm if necessary.

Luckily, Ron regained his balance and smiled nervously over at Angelina, hoping she hadn't seen.

Hermione had been ready to approach Ron with condolences once he'd walked into the Gryffindor common room an hour or so later after the team went to get out of their uniforms. She'd spent the remaining time alone beside the fireplace, double checking her Potions homework when Ron shouted loudly. "I'm Keeper!" and the other Gryffindors rallied around him offering shouts of congratulations.

Shocked by the revelation, guilt set into Hermione's stomach and she recalled how she'd felt when she had been surprised over his becoming prefect.

"Can you believe it?" Ron asked as he approached her, two butterbeers in his hand. He quickly popped the top on each, holding one out to her.

"Yes, I can," Hermione lied. "Never doubted you for a second." She offered a sweet smile taking the butterbeer, scolding herself for ever thinking Ron wasn't good enough to earn a spot on the team.

Ron beamed proudly at her response. "Really?"

"I told you," her heart swelled at the obvious pride on his face, "you're not rubbish."

The celebration went on while Ron continued telling and retelling everyone the details of his tryout, and Hermione put her focus back on her studies. Knowing how hard he had worked on Quidditch, she casually looked through her bag and pulled out the notes she had taken during the week, setting them aside so that he could look them over later. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out her knitting needles in order to get to work on the elf hats.

 _'Harry, I did it, I'm in, I'm Keeper!'_

 _'What? Oh- brilliant!' said Harry, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race and his hand throbbed and bled._

 _'Have a Butterbeer.' Ron pressed a bottle on him. 'I can't believe it-where's Hermione gone?'_

 _'She's there,' said Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, and pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand._

 _'Well, she said she was pleased when I told her,' said Ron, looking slightly put out._

 _'Let her sleep,' said George hastily._

 _And he did, but not long after Harry moved over to sit beside Hermione and she awoke with a jerk._

 _'Oh, Harry, it's you ... good about Ron, isn't it?' she said. 'I'm just so-so-so tired,' she yawned. 'I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!'_

Soon though, her mind was taken from her elf hats and Ron's victorious tryout as Harry explained his experience with Umbridge and his scar hurting. Soon her exhausted mind was distracted thinking of You-Know-Who and what he was planning and how Dolores Umbridge possibly fit into that plan. Eventually, she couldn't take anymore and went up to stairs, knitting needles and school bag in hand, eager for sleep.

* * *

Her pride over Ron's tryout didn't last long. Soon, all he could talk about was Quidditch and with Harry joined in, the two became completely intolerable. She scolded them both for once again ignoring homework and disrupting class, Ron more so as he continued to ignore his prefect duties unless it was to take away points from other Houses and hand out detention to nervous-looking first years.

 _'How was practice?' asked Hermione coolly as Harry and Ron entered the common room_ after what she knew to be Ron's first practice as an official member of the team. She'd hoped that perhaps he'd finally gotten the enthusiasm out of his system so he could perhaps put focus on other more important matters.

 _'It was-' Harry began._

 _'Completely lousy,' said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frost mess seemed to melt._

 _'Well, it was only your first one,' she said consolingly, 'it's bound to take time to-'_

 _'Who said it was me who made it lousy?' snapped Ron._

 _'No one,' said Hermione, looking taken aback, 'I thought-'_

 _'You thought I was bound to be rubbish?'_

 _'No, of course I didn't! Look, you said it was lousy so I just-'_

 _'I'm going to get started on some homework,' said Ron angrily and stomped off to the staircase to the boys' dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry._

 _'Was he lousy?'_

 _'No,' said Harry loyally._

 _Hermione raised her eyebrows._

 _'Well, I suppose he could've played better,' Harry muttered, 'but it was only the first training session, like you said ...'_

"Do you think I'm too hard on him?" Hermione asked Harry with a frown. "I don't think he's rubbish. He keeps saying that." She looked down at her ink-stained fingers and rubbed them together, a nervous habit.

"You're hard on everyone. You're Hermione," Harry replied.

She frowned. "He takes it so personally."

Harry shrugged. "That's just Ron for you, though. Maybe he'd feel better if you let us copy your homework," he suggested with a sly grin and Hermione just scowled at him in reply.

Of course, that was exactly what she ended up doing the following day after Ron got a personal letter from Percy that set his temper off, tearing the letter into pieces and throwing it into the fire.

Hermione knew that while Ron and Percy never really saw eye to eye, he had taken Percy's leave of the family as a personal insult. If Ron was anything, it was protective and Percy had insulted the entire Weasley clan, not to mention Harry. It was Ron's personal vendetta to defend them all, something that caused Hermione to swell with pride, but worry about nonetheless. The situation playing at her sympathies, she'd offered to help the boys with their enormous workout.

 _'Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a life-saver,' said Ron, 'what can I-?'_

 _'What you can say is, "We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again," ' she said, holding out both hands for their essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same._

But like things always happened, the momentary peace treaty didn't last long and soon Ron and Hermione were arguing over every other little thing, most especially how to deal with Harry's multiple detentions, Umbridge's new position as High Inquisitor, and how Harry should handle the fact that his hand now bore a white _I will not tell lies_ scar on his hand.

 _'She's an awful woman,' said Hermione in a small voice. 'I was just saying to Ron when you came in ... we've got to do something about her.'_

 _'I suggested poison,' said Ron grimly._

 _'No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all,' said Hermione._

 _'Well, what can we do about that?' said Ron, yawning. ' 'S too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that.'_

 _'Well,' said Hermione tentatively. 'You know, I was thinking today ...' she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, 'I was thinking that- maybe the time's come when we should just-just do it ourselves.'_

 _'Do what ourselves?' said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles._

 _'Well-learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves, said Hermione._

It was something she had put a lot of effort into thinking about, investigating rules about school clubs and organisations, books they would need and potential spaces to organise themselves into. Naturally, Slytherins couldn't be allowed in, but she'd already asked around the other Houses to trusted individuals and found out that many people were interested, especially when she casually mentioned that Harry would be involved. Of course, she hadn't really asked him yet.

 _'Come off it,' groaned Ron. 'You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?'_

 _'But this is much more important than homework!' said Hermione._

 _Harry and Ron goggled at her._

 _'I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!' said Ron._

 _'Don't be silly, of course there is,' said Hermione._

He didn't know why, but as the words came out of her mouth, his gaze lingered on her lips as though they were the greatest invention in the world. Hermione had just said somethings were more important than homework, and he felt his face flush as he stared at her. Her. Hermione "Homework" Granger. _No_ , Hermione "Rule-Breaking" Granger. And suddenly, he remembered the rules about the private prefect bathroom and his mind drifted to a fantasy image of a small white scar on his hand that read, _I will not snog in the prefect bathroom._

He was brought back to reality when Hermione and Harry began discussing the potential details of a Defence group, and Ron couldn't help but be excited over the idea of not only learning practical Defence Against the Dark Arts, but excitement over doing it all while opposing Umbridge.

And it had all been Hermione's idea.

He was clearly rubbing off on her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

 **October 1995**

Hermione and Ron brought up the Defence group two weeks later, hoping that it had given Harry enough time to cool off after he had snapped at them both for encouraging him in the first place. Ron didn't understand what the big deal was, it wasn't like Harry hadn't faced worse before. Besides, if people could see what Harry was capable of, maybe they'd start believing the truth about how You-Know-Who was back.

 _'You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?'_

 _'Yes, Harry,' said Hermione gently, 'but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said-'_

 _Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, 'Yeah? What did Vicky say?'_

 _'Ho ho,' said Hermione in a bored voice. 'He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang.'_

Ron felt his ears turn red with anger at the mere thought of Viktor Krum. Viktor Krum, who had been in his final year at school; like that was such a big bloody accomplishment. All you had to do was not get kicked out. Even Ron had managed that so far and _he'd_ driven a flying car into a tree! He still couldn't believe that Hermione had gone to the dance with that pumpkin-headed git! And now, months later she was rubbing their conversations in his face, although something occurred to him:

 _'You're not still in contact with him, are you?'_

 _'So what if I am?' said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. 'I can have a pen-pal if I-'_

 _'He didn't only want to be your pen-pal,' said Ron accusingly._

 _Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, 'Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?'_

Ron ignored them both as he folded his arms across his chest, wondering where exactly Hermione kept her letters from Krum. Knowing her, she kept them all well organised by date and subject, in alphabetical order too. They'd probably be up in her room somewhere. Maybe in her trunk where the other girls couldn't see them. Or maybe they'd be on display. What if she showed them around to Lavender and Pavarti? It made Ron feel sick to his stomach to imagine Hermione up in the girls dormitories, reading love letters from Viktor aloud while her roommates sat there giggling. He needed to know what was in those letters. He had to make sure. For Hermione's sake. It would be rude to sneak them away and read them, of course, but as far as Ron was concerned, it was rude of Viktor to exist in the first place.

 _'Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say,' said Hermione seriously. 'Look,' she leaned towards him- Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too-'you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?'_

 _'Why do we have to do it outside school?' said Ron._

 _'Because,' said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, 'I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.'_

* * *

A week and a half later, the three of them met everyone else in the Hog's Head and soon a group was formed. Hermione looked victorious and even Harry seemed to cheer up a bit at the idea that maybe, just maybe, something good could come out of this. As the three packed up their things to leave, Ron glanced over at the bar once more, wondering if he could order a quick firewhiskey without Hermione noticing. He'd overheard his brother Charlie once telling Fred and George he took a glass of it before he knew he was going to have to deal with especially temperamental dragons. Firewhiskey must make you brave.

Ron felt that he needed a little bravery as he looked back at Hermione. Though they hadn't made any plans aside from this meeting when it came to Hogsmeade, he'd wanted to see if Hermione would walk around with him and, with a little encouragement, he'd tell Harry to piss off for a bit. They walked out of the Hog's Head, butterbeer clutched in hand as Ron looked around, waiting for a good moment to bring it up. They hadn't had lunch yet, maybe he could ask her to the Three Broomsticks for a bite.

They casually conversed about the meeting, while planning to peruse the shops. Hermione needing to restock on quills and bottles of ink. Ron was doing his best to be involved but something Hermione said took him by surprise and he found himself choking on butterbeer.

 _'But the more people the better really-I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny-'_

 _'He's WHAT?' spluttered Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. 'She's going out with-my sister's going-what d'you mean, Michael Corner?'_

 _'Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think-well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on-'_

 _'When did this- when did she-?'_

 _'They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year,' said Hermione composedly._

That bloody Yule Ball. What horrible thing in Ron's life didn't come back to that damn Yule Ball?

 _'Which one was Michael Corner?' Ron demanded furiously._

 _'The dark one,' said Hermione._

 _'I didn't like him,' said Ron at once._

 _'Big surprise,' said Hermione under her breath._

 _'But,' said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, 'I thought Ginny fancied Harry!'_

Harry, he could handle. Harry didn't want to snog his little sister. Why couldn't Ginny just go about the rest of her life fancying Harry, and Harry ignoring her like the good mate he was? Why had Ginny suddenly taken an interest in someone else? Someone Ron didn't know. Someone Ron didn't trust. Someone Ron was going to beat unconscious.

As Harry and Hermione turned the subject from Ginny to Cho, Ron followed shortly behind them, thinking up a number of things in his head that he wanted to do to this Michael bloke, and in what precise order he wanted to do them. He thought about bringing it up to Fred and George—they'd surely want a piece of the action—but Ron felt that if he handled it all by himself then he'd get all the big brother glory.

Then again, Fred and George would have great ideas on how to effectively remind this tosser not to mess around with their sister. He could imagine force feeding Michael Corner some things out of the Skiving Box. He wouldn't be able to snog Ginny while puking into a bucket or bleeding out his nose.

Bill might have good ideas too. Ron contemplated writing him. Being a Curse-Breaker had to afford you decent benefits, like learning really great curses.

Maybe Charlie could bring back Norbert just for the day . . .

The idea of facing Ginny, however, made his stomach lurch. She could be right scary when she wanted to be, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if letting a dragon set her boyfriend on fire would be one of those sensitive things that set her off. Might even make her like him _more_. Harry had faced a dragon the year before and Ginny was an embarrassing mess about it.

"That one?!" Ron shouted, pointing at a group of students from a distance. "Is that him?" he asked Hermione, his face red.

"Let it go, Ron," she instructed him, eagerly looking over her new quill set like it was Christmas.

It only reminded him that the holidays weren't too far ahead and with new quills in her hand, it left one thing less that Ron could buy her as a present. He'd usually go for the typical box of candy that he gave nearly everyone for Christmas and birthdays, but he'd wanted to maybe get her something special this year. She'd sometimes complain about how her parents would be upset if they knew she'd eaten too much candy—something Ron didn't think possible—and he was rubbish when it came to picking out books, especially since he was sure she'd read them all.

He'd have to try really hard to get her something nice; something a girl would like. Of course, that only made him wonder what Michael Corner would get his sister and his face turned red again. "I will not let it go. That's my little sister!" he insisted. "Harry, back me up here."

Harry looked at them both silently for a very long moment, as though he were deciding who would be the ultimate victor before choosing the winning side. In the end, he took in a deep breath as if to speak, and then immediately turned and walked away in the opposite direction without uttering a single word.

"Traitor," Ron grumbled.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked him. "We could grab a bite at the Three Broomsticks," she casually suggested, changing the subject.

He'd already forgotten that he'd wanted time alone with Hermione. He'd forgotten that he'd wanted to take her to the Three Broomsticks. That he'd wanted Harry to leave them alone. Now, not only was Harry gone, Hermione was asking _him_ to grab a bite with her. Unfortunately, Ron could barely concentrate.

"You don't think she's with him right now, do you?" His eyes widened as he scanned the streets for the trademark dark red hair of his little sister.

Hermione glowered. "You are impossible."

"She's my sister," he said in a huff.

"She's a big girl," Hermione fought back.

"It's my job to protect her."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "She can protect herself."

"She's too young!" he shouted, his ears turning purple.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "She's only a year younger than we are!"

"Yeah and you don't see you and I going off to . . ." He paused, his words catching up with him. "I mean to say . . ." He looked down at Hermione and despite the cold, a sweat broke out against his forehead. "Not that . . . " His eyes widened. "Cause you and I would never . . " What was he saying?! Why was noise still coming out of his mouth?!

Hermione's face flushed angrily and she stepped back from him.

He'd said something wrong. Where was a Time-Turner when he really needed one? "No, no . . . not that I wouldn't . . ." he continued to insert his foot into his mouth, wondering if there was a shoe horn around to make the transition easier, "because I would . . . I mean, not with . . . but," he swallowed hard, "because you're . . ." and he gestured to her, not realising that he was pointing at her breasts, which only then drew his attention to them and his eyes went wide. Had those always been there?

"I'm going to go back," Hermione insisted, thankfully already turning her focus away from Ron, unaware he was now staring awkwardly, mouth open, at her blouse.

Desperate to make it up to her, Ron called out, "Want me to c-come with?" his voice breaking.

"Don't bother!" she shouted back at him. "And don't you dare go off looking for Ginny!" she ordered. "You leave them alone!"

* * *

Ron was in a sour mood the rest of the weekend which only got worse as a stack of homework waited for him back in the common room. Not to mention, Dolores Umbridge posted Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, ultimately banning any and all unapproved organisations. His sister had a boyfriend, Hermione was mad at him, and now their long-awaited Defence group was cancelled before it could even begin.

Oh, and You-Know-Who was alive somewhere, which almost seemed like an after thought.

 _'Zacharias Smith!' said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. 'Or-I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too-'_

 _'I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?' Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls' dormitories._

 _'Let's go and tell her,' said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase._

It didn't take long for Ron to end up at the bottom of the staircase, not knowing about the spell that had been cast on it. There were girls looking down at him, laughing, and his day just got a lot worse. Not only was he embarrassed of sliding down the staircase in front of everyone, but the thought occurred to him that if Hermione was hiding Viktor's letters in her dorm room, there would definitely be no way for him to take a peak. There was at least one plus side to the event. Ron knew immediately that there was no way any boy would end up in his sister's room.

He had little time to focus on his embarrassment as many people gathered to take a look at the notice board. Those who had met them in Hogsmeade began discussing who could have possibly let their secret slip. Not only that, but Angelina informed them all that Quidditch teams were now in jeopardy, something that made him both miserable and relieved at the same time.

The day continued to get worse as Hedwig returned to Hogwart's injured, Neville tried attacking Malfoy outside of Potions—ultimately getting Ron and Harry in trouble too—and then Divination was a mess because, after getting her inspections back, Professor Trelawney snapped at anyone who spoke out of turn. The only bright spot was later that night when Sirius appeared in the fire encouraging them all to continue their efforts to establish a secret defence organisation. Ron's spirits had lifted, until Umbridge's hand appeared in the fire, seeking out Sirius's head.

* * *

 **November 1995**

Weeks later, everything seemed to have taken a turn for the better.

Quidditch teams were back on and during practice Ron seemed to be improving. Even Fred and George stopped heckling him so often and even said the word "proud" once. Not only that, but the D.A. had been established and between riding his broom during Quidditch practice and the new ability to disarm Hermione during D.A. meetings, Ron was on cloud nine—as Muggles would say.

It didn't last long, however. All it took was a little rousing from the Slytherins in reference to the upcoming Quidditch match and Ron's nerves got the best of him. Even the prospect of eating became unappealing to him. He was going to make a mess of things. He'd lose them the Quidditch Cup, he was certain of it. He mentioned resigning to Angelina, who set off on him for a good ten minutes before even taking a breath and Ron promised not to do anything stupid.

 _'How're you feeling?' Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them._

 _'He's just nervous,' said Harry._

 _'Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous,' said Hermione heartily._

 _Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey._

 _'When you're ready,' she said, 'we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.'_

 _'We'll be there in a bit,' Harry assured her. 'Ron's just got to have some breakfast.'_

 _It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up, too, and taking Harry's arm she drew him to one side._

Ron watched as Hermione pulled Harry aside and the two began whispering. With so much on his mind he had barely noticed but, when he _did_ , he felt a jolt of jealousy sink in. They were probably talking about him. About how embarrassing the game was going to be. Hermione was probably telling Harry how relieved she would be when Ron got kicked off the team, because then he'd finally have time to finish his homework and his prefect duties.

 _'Good luck, Ron,' said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek._

His glazed eyes widened slightly at the gesture, his breath catching in his throat. The few bits of breakfast he had managed to eat began stirring in his stomach, threatening him. At the same time, a warmth enveloped his chest and he was unaware that he was standing until Harry pulled on his arm, making him walk forward. Casually, Ron brought a hand up to touch the space on his cheek where Hermione's lips had been.

Hermione's lips had touched him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

 **November 1995**

She'd seen the badges and felt immediate unease.

Hermione had spent days looking up Quidditch guidelines—at least as far as heckling went—and so far she'd found nothing useful for the taunts that the Slytherins had already gotten away with, nor the ones Malfoy was clearly planning. She knew Ron was already nervous about his upcoming match, and the sight of the "Weasley is Our King" badges made her fume with anger. Though she'd always come to Harry's defence over the years when picked on, she felt a special kind of anger brewing inside of her as she wondered why they had to single Ron out. Her father had played football in his younger days and she'd met several old team mates when they went on holiday during the summer where she was inundated with stories of the past that included general teasing. She'd been assured it was something that was just as a part of the game as the ball, but Hermione felt that when it came to Quidditch and Hogwarts things were taken too far.

 _'Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges,' she whispered urgently._

 _Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate._

 _'Good luck, Ron,' said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek._

Her eyes momentarily went wide. What had she just done?! Why had she done it?! Ron was already a ball of nerves and now she'd gone and done something as stupid as kiss him?! Certainly he felt nothing like that toward her. She wasn't even certain how she felt about _him_! Now she worried that he would read into the kiss and be distracted during the game. Why wouldn't he? She was and _she'd been_ the one who had done it! Merlin, what if he lost focus and got hurt? She quickly tried to recover her mistake.

 _'And you, Harry -'_

She thought about reaching over and kissing Harry as well, but she thought she saw Ron's body stiffen as she moved and suddenly she felt even more awkward. The damage was done. She rushed away from the table quickly, her face in her hands, mortified by her actions. Although a part of her wondered; she looked back at Ron standing there with a puzzled look on his face as he brought a hand to touch the side of his cheek. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that he didn't look horrified or disgusted.

* * *

That simple, stupid kiss already seemed a lifetime ago.

A lot of good it did too.

Not only had Ron played abysmally, Harry and George's attack on Malfoy after the game had gotten them—Fred included—banned from Quidditch for life by Umbridge; all three of their brooms were locked away in her office.

Watching Harry without his Firebolt was a pitiful sight. Hermione wondered if she would feel similarly if someone took away her prefect badge, or her books, or her quills. Even Hagrid's reappearance wasn't something that brought joy to the three of them considering Umbridge was hell bent on sacking him. Somehow, Ron blamed himself for everything that went bad during the entire game and there wasn't a thing anyone could do to make him think otherwise. Hermione tried being sweet and kind and offer him consolation and sympathy. She even tried distraction by putting him on his homework and prefect duties, ultimately going so far as to try and pick a fight with him. He'd only replied tiredly and gone up to bed early as though her words had gone right through him. Ron wasn't fighting with her. She was starting to get worried.

The D.A. meetings were the only thing keeping anyone going. Perhaps because, through everything they had to endure—specifically from Umbridge—it felt good to stun someone at the end of the day. While she was generally opposed to violence, she couldn't help but imagine Umbridge in each of her opponents, hearing her annoying little "hem, hem" cough. Hermione would grin a little anytime one of her jinxes knocked someone onto their back.

* * *

 **December 1995**

After the last meeting before the holidays, Hermione and Ron retired to the common room where she set out to answer a letter from Viktor she'd received, wanting to get it sent before she left for France with her parents. He'd requested again that she come and visit him and, finally, Hermione had to make it incredibly clear that she was not interested in a romantic relationship. A visit so far away might seem inappropriate; she did not want to give him the wrong idea. However, she did want to be polite about it and remain friends—the whole point of the Triwizard Tournament had been to make friends after all—so her incredibly wordy letter continued on and on for over half a roll of parchment before Harry appeared through the portrait hole.

 _'What kept you?' Ron asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's._

 _Harry didn't answer. He was in a state of shock. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what had just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave._

 _'Are you all right, Harry?' Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill._

 _Harry gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth, he didn't know whether he was all right or not. 'What's up?' said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. 'What's happened?'_

 _'Is it Cho?' she asked in a businesslike way. 'Did she corner you after the meeting?'_

 _Numbly surprised, Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye._

 _'So-er-what did she want?' he asked in a mock casual voice._

 _'She-' Harry began, rather hoarsely, he cleared his throat and tried again. 'She-er-'_

 _'Did you kiss?' asked Hermione briskly._

Ron sat up, knocking his ink bottle over and Hermione winced as she watched the stain, making a mental note to clean it up later so that a house-elf wouldn't have to.

Ron's reaction to Harry's potential love life caused a pang in Hermione's chest as she remembered that he'd gone out of his way in Hogsmeade to make it very clear to her that he didn't see her in that type of way. Though, she couldn't help looking at him now, watching the light of the fire reflect off of the ginger wisps of hair that hung in his face and how his t-shirts were clinging a little closer to his arms with all the Quidditch practice he'd been doing. Distracted for the briefest of moments, she smiled as her eyes looked up into his face and she noticed the glimmer of a smile. She could stand hearing about Harry and Cho, if it gave them all a good distraction.

 _'Well?' Ron demanded._

 _Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione's slight frown, and nodded._

 _'HA!'_

 _Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug._

 _Hermione gave Ron a look or deep disgust and returned to her letter._

She had thought about telling Viktor that the reason she could only be friends with him was because she had her heart set on someone else, but Ron's behaviour just now caused her to look down at her letter and write the words "I need to focus on my studies" as her excuse for lack of romantic involvement.

The boys began talking about Harry's kiss with Cho and Hermione rolled her eyes. They reminded her of Lavender and Pavarti. If they started giggling, she was going to throw up. Eventually, she had to put her quill down with a very loud sigh and educate them both when they began questioning Cho's emotions and why the poor girl had started crying during the kiss. It was plainly obvious to Hermione, who had watched Cho and Cedric the year before; the way they had looked at one another—even after the Yule Ball—clearly said that they'd been in love, or at least close to it. Then to have Cedric die that way. She couldn't imagine losing someone she . . . and then to have to deal with feelings for someone else so soon after.

 _A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of her speech, then Ron said, 'One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.'_

 _'Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have,' said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again._

Eventually, between educating Harry and Ron on the emotions of women, Hermione was able to finish her letter to Viktor. Explode indeed. Hermione felt a great many things, plenty of them just as heightened and confusing as Cho, and she was very much emotionally collected. Though, her temper was getting the better of her lately.

She looked over the top of her parchment and watched as Ron turned his attention toward her and briefly their gaze met. She could see the reflection of the roaring fire in the centre of his blue eyes and she felt a warmth develop across the back of her neck. His gaze turned from her eyes to her parchment and the figurative spell broke.

 _'Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?' Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight._

 _'Viktor.'_

 _'Krum?'_

 _'How many other Viktors do we know?'_

 _Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled._

 _'Well, night,' said Hermione, yawning widely as she set off up the girls' staircase._

She was not in the mood for another row about Viktor. Especially not after she'd sat there staring at Ron the same way he stared at a plate of bacon. Embarrassed, Hermione reached her hand behind her, pulling up her long, bushy curls, fanning her skin a little. If she walked into her dormitory looking flushed, she'd have Lavender and Parvati to answer to. Before she closed the door behind her, Hermione heard Ron mutter something below.

 _'What does she see in Krum?' Ron demanded, as he and Harry climbed the boys' stairs._

 _'Well,' said Harry, considering the matter, 'I s'pose he's older, isn't he ... and he's an international Quidditch player ...'_

"Ugh." Hermione rolled her eyes. As if she'd be interested in someone who played Quidditch. Or . . . well . . . as if someone _playing_ Quidditch was the entire reason for her attraction.

Ron was insufferable.

She closed the dormitory door behind her, throwing her bag on her bed as she recalled Ron's poor attitude. Though a small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. For some reason, Ron's bitter jealousy over Viktor made her happy in this instance. Though, his ignorance was appalling. Emotional range of a teaspoon indeed. How could he be so oblivious?

* * *

Two days later, Viktor Krum didn't even pop into Hermione's thoughts as she was quickly lead into Grimmauld Place, setting down Crookshanks's crate and letting him out. "Behave," she scolded him quietly as she looked around the quiet house, already covered in Christmas decorations despite the reason she was there. A part of her wanted to be with her parents for Christmas but, after waking up to find Harry, Ron, and all the Weasley's missing from the Gryffindor Common room early one morning only to hear from Dumbledore that Mr. Weasley had nearly been killed, Hermione couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

A voice was heard from around the corner. "What the . . . ? What's Hermione's bloody cat doing . . . " Ron's eyes widened as he nearly ran into her. "Hermione?"

Without thinking, Hermione launched herself at Ron, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug as she pressed her face deeply to his chest, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry about your father," she whispered and before feeling foolish for another random act of physical affection she meant to pull away until she felt Ron's arms wrap tightly back around her, returning the hug.

She imagined the Weasley's had been comforting one another the whole time, Mrs. Weasley was never one to withhold affection from her children. All the same, the way Ron pulled her against him was as though he'd longed for someone to hold him.

"You're supposed to be with your parents," Ron said lightly, removing one of his hands from around her to pick at the snow stuck in her wild hair.

She blushed and pulled away from him, bringing a hand to her face to wipe her eyes. "I told them I was staying at school."

He frowned. "You cancelled your holiday because of my dad?"

"Of course!" she nearly shouted. "Your family is . . . well, they're very important to me, Ronald. I wanted to come immediately, but Umbridge was in a state over the rest of you leaving," she said with a bristle. "I came as soon as term ended. I wanted to make sure you were . . . I mean, all of you . . . and your father of course . . ." She nervously looked down. "I was so worried."

"Harry's a mess." Ron stuck his hands in his pockets, taking a step back from her as if he had just become aware of how close they had been. "Won't talk to any of us. Sits up there all day, doing Merlin knows what," he said and gestured to the ceiling.

"I don't care about Harry . . ." She shook her head and Ron's eyes widened. "I mean . . . I _do_ , obviously," she winced, "but he's not why I came here. I came here for your family. For you. To make sure your father is all right. Is he?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Wasn't looking good at first, but he's all chipper now. Mum's in a huff about how he's acting, but she won't say much cause who yells at a man in a bloody hospital bed?" He smirked, but Hermione could tell that behind the smile were tired eyes, bloodshot from tears and lack of sleep.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"How are you? Handling everything I mean."

He shrugged his shoulders, playing serious things off as usual, always wanting to appear unaffected, strong and brave. "I'm not the one in the hospital bed."

Hermione frowned at his inability to confide in her. "I'll go and deal with Harry," she insisted as she made her way toward the stairs. "Go grab Ginny and meet me us in your room. I didn't cancel my holiday and lie to my parents to spend Christmas watching him pout." She took several steps upwards, determined to break Harry out of whatever funk he was in. This was not the time nor place for his martyr complex.

"Hermione?" Ron called out after her.

She turned around quickly on the spot. "Yes?"

"I'm . . . " he swallowed, "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too." She blushed and turned back around to quickly rush up the steps, afraid that if she lingered longer, she'd fly right back down and pull Ron into another hug.

* * *

Christmas day was pleasant enough, though Hermione still felt guilty about abandoning her parents, especially when they were under the impression that she'd stayed behind at Hogwarts to study. She made a promise to do as much studying as possible as though it would make up for it should they ever discover she had lied to them. Her guilt melted away a little when she woke to find a stack of presents at the foot of her bed. An owl had delivered presents from her parents, though, by the looks of it, they'd gone to Hogwarts first before being redirected to Grimmauld Place. She was grateful that they hadn't been sent back because she would have to explain why.

Among the gifts, was a book on Numerology from Harry that she'd been wanting for ages, and a small box that looked like it had been a struggle to wrap. Glancing at the tag and realising it was from Ron, Hermione assumed that he'd given her his typical stash of candies that everyone else received every holiday. Though, she didn't have too much of a sweet tooth—always pestered by the voices in her head that sounded an awful lot like her dentist parents lecturing her about cavities—Hermione found herself excited at the prospect of opening a potential chocolate frog. At least with a card in hand she would have something to talk to Ron about other than school—a conversational subject he detested—or his father's condition.

However, upon opening the package, she was taken back with the gift in her hand. Perfume. He'd gotten her perfume. She brought it up to her nose to smell and winced lightly at the strength of it, but couldn't help but smile regardless. Though she rarely wore the stuff herself, foregoing most things that would rather be found on Parvati and Lavender's side of the dormitory, the small bottle was an immediate reminder of Hermione's anger the prior year over Ron's inability to see her as a girl. She was certain that he hadn't bought _Harry_ perfume for Christmas, and the thought that he'd singled her out for such a different gift brought a blush to her cheeks.

Almost immediately she regretted the gift that she had purchased for him: a school planner.

A visit later to see Mr. Weasley doing much better—despite the stitches he'd allowed a Healer in training to give him for his snake bite wounds—Christmas seemed to be getting increasingly joyful, even Harry had become infected by Sirius's happy holiday mood. Unfortunately, the mood immediately changed as they were accidentally led into the hospital ward where Gilderoy Lockhart—and apparently Neville's parents—remained permanently. Hermione had been shocked at first to see the sight, more so as she recalled Neville's reaction to Moody's—or Barty Crouch Jr's as it were—lesson last year on the Cruciatus Curse. Suddenly, everything made sense and her heart simply broke for her friend.

Once Neville had turned and left the ward, Hermione looked at Harry, Ron and Ginny, tears brimming. "I never knew," she admitted.

 _'Nor did I,' said Ron rather hoarsely._

 _'Nor me,' whispered Ginny._

 _They all looked at Harry._

 _'I did,' he said glumly. 'Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone ... that's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds.'_

 _'Bellatrix Lestrange did that?' whispered Hermione, horrified. 'That woman Kreacher's got a photo of in his den?'_

* * *

 **January 1996**

The night before their return to Hogwarts, Hermione had a terrible nightmare; one that began very typically. A worry over O.W.L.s found Hermione in the library only without the ability to find the book she needed for her revisions. Then, once she'd found it, the shelf seemed far out of reach and began growing taller and taller as the library grew darker and darker. Harry and Ron stood by laughing at her attempts to reach the too high shelf. Malfoy was in the background muttering the word "Mudblood" silently. Then suddenly, the nightmare changed and Hermione found herself face to face with a hooded figure. Long pale hands in front of the person cloaked in a black lace dress gripped tightly around a wand.

" _Crucio_!" the woman's voice yelled with a maniacal laugh and Hermione screamed in the dream, thrashing upon a cold floor. She thought she heard someone else screaming too. Someone in the distance, calling her name.

Crookshanks tail brushed against her face as he tried to curl against her pillow and she woke with a start. Hermione sat up in bed, her heart beating so hard and loud against her chest that it nearly deafened her. She brought one shaking hand to her chest, trying to settle, and another hand to her forehead to wipe away traces of a cold sweat. She immediately climbed out of bed.

Making her way to the loo where the light beneath the door was on, she almost turned back around before the door opened and Ron walked out.

"You're up early."

He scratched the side of his head. "Yeah. I reckon I haven't slept well since . . . well, since Dad." He shrugged his shoulders. "Always worried that Harry's gonna wake me up screaming, telling me he's had another nightmare."

"I'm starting to sympathise with him," she admitted softly.

"You all right?" he asked, a look of concern playing at his brow.

"Bad dream. Bellatrix Lestrange," she admitted. "Can't stop thinking of Neville and his poor parents. I can't believe Kreacher has a portrait of that awful woman in his room."

"You're lucky you dropped Divination." Ron tried to grin at her, hoping that he could make her smile after the obviously bad night she'd had. "Trelawney would have a go at you dreaming about Death Eaters." He chuckled and Hermione couldn't help but smirk at him. "'Course, she'd probably just say even _your_ dreams are foretelling Harry's death."

Hermione rolled her eyes with a small laugh as the door behind them opened and Harry stepped out onto the landing, blurry eyed as he looked at them, the back of his messy hair sticking up straighter than usual. "Whussofunny?" he mumbled, voice still groggy.

Ron and Hermione just shared another laugh as the three of them made their way down the stairs for breakfast.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

 **February 1996**

Returning to Hogwarts felt like it had been months ago. A great anticipation of enjoyment followed by a massive amount of hurdles and disappointments. Death Eaters escaped Azkaban, Hagrid was put on probation, a Ministry worker was killed, and Harry was failing miserably at Occlumency. Hermione's silver lining was the fact that Rita Skeeter would soon be publishing the true account of Harry's story and soon, hopefully, everyone would believe him. She barely even minded that she had resorted to blackmail to get it done. Hermione blamed Ron and Harry; years of their rule breaking habits were rubbing off on her.

 _'Oh, I forgot to ask you,' said Hermione brightly, glancing over at the Ravenclaw table, 'what happened on your date with Cho? How come you were back so early?'_

 _'Er ... well, it was ...' said Harry, pulling a dish of rhubarb crumble towards him and helping himself to seconds, 'a complete fiasco, now you mention it.'_

 _And he told her what had happened in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop._

 _'... so then,' he finished several minutes later, as the final bit of crumble disappeared, 'she jumps up, right, and says, "I'll see you around, Harry," and runs out of the place!' He put down his spoon and looked at Hermione. 'I mean, what was all that about? What was going on?'_

 _Hermione glanced over at the back of Cho's head and sighed. 'Oh, Harry,' she said sadly. 'Well, I'm sorry but you were a bit tactless.'_

She tried explaining to him what he should have done and how Cho was clearly jealous thinking that Harry was running off to be with Hermione. As the words came tumbling out of her mouth—though they all made sense to her—she began to really understand how little boys knew about the ways girls minds worked, and perhaps for good reason. It was all very confusing, Hermione felt strangely proud that she understood it.

Once Ron showed up at the table, beaten into the ground by what he deemed the worst Quidditch practice ever, Hermione and Harry stopped the conversation, switching to a new topic. However, later that evening, after Ron had gone to bed, Harry brought it up again.

"So am I able to just go up to her and tell her that she was crazy for thinking that I was meeting you for anything like a date?" he plainly asked.

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to start laughing. When he didn't, she shook her head. "How did you even get her to kiss you in the first place?" she asked, her lips tightly forming a line. "Did you confund her?"

"Well _she's_ the one who's apparently jealous of you!" Harry shouted in frustration. "I should just tell Cho that you're taken, and there's no reason for her to be jealous."

Hermione frowned. "First of all, I'm not taken, and secondly that would just make her think that the only reason you and I aren't together is because I'm taken," she paused and then added quickly, "Which I'm not."

"So you and Krum . . ."

"Pen pals," she insisted.

"Well it's not _just_ Krum," Harry pointed out under his breath.

She rose a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry stared at her. "Oh, you know what I'm talking about. Just because _he's_ blind doesn't mean that _I_ am."

Her face flushed and she turned away from Harry, putting her focus on an essay in front of her. "I don't know what you're going on about."

"Maybe if I just tell Cho that Ron is—"

"Don't!" Hermione snapped at him. "You leave Ron out of this," she ordered. "And leave me out of it too. Just . . . Merlin, Harry, can you handle your love life on your own?!" She grabbed her things and stormed away, up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Thankfully, Harry didn't bring up the subject again and a week later when the Quibbler came out, no one could talk about anything except for Harry's story. Though she wasn't pleased with him when it came to stories about his Occlumency lessons with Snape, the fact that Harry was still seeing through Voldemort's eyes was giving them clues as to what was happening, and they all were beginning to feel like things were clicking into place. All they needed now was to get through their O.W.L.s, continue working hard in the D.A. meetings, and soon perhaps they'd be able to assist the Order with what information they had.

* * *

 **April 1996**

It was an exciting day in the D.A. meeting when Harry told them all they'd be learning how to summon a Patronus. Hermione especially was excited, having seen for herself years earlier what Harry's Patronus was capable of.

"Just think of a happy memory, something really good and solid," Harry instructed them. "Then," he made a movement with his wand and shouted, " _Expecto Patronum_!" and a silver stag emerged from the tip of his want with clarity that caused everyone's eyes to widen in awe.

One by one, each of them tried it and failed to produce anything.

It took several minutes for any of the members to get even the tiniest hint of a silver wisp. After about twenty minutes, not only were wisps becoming larger, but some members were producing shields and actual corporeal patronuses themselves, though none as solid or magnificent as Harry's. Cho's silver swan soared around the room and Hermione grumbled under her breath as she focused on the tip of her wand, the silver wisp seemed to struggle to get out. She could almost see the small hint of a paw, but the second she got excited, it faded away into nothing.

She frowned. "I don't get it. I'm thinking about the day I got my Hogwarts letter. That's my happiest memory."

" _That's_ your happiest memory?" Ron asked her, not seeming to care that his own Patronus had yet to make an appearance. "I tried for the memory of making the Quidditch team, but well . . ." He frowned. "Not such a happy memory now that I think about it."

" _Expecto Patronum_!" Hermione shouted again and watched closely as the wisps struggled to form something solid. She tried her hardest to focus on the memory.

 _'You've got to think of something happy,'_ she heard Harry say from behind her.

"I am!" Hermione snapped angrily.

Ron chuckled. "Well, that attitude isn't going to help much."

Hermione glared at him.

Happy. Hogwarts letters were happy. But why did it make her happy? Was it because she wasn't strange anymore? Because things finally made sense? Had the letter been her happy memory this whole time? She wondered if maybe it wasn't the memory of the letter itself, but what the letter signified. It meant friends. It meant magic. And somehow . . . both of those things meant . . .

"I almost got it," Ron said with a grin as his wisps of silver began growing larger.

Hermione smiled up at him, the look of pride and excitement on his face mixed with a smile that hadn't been showing up lately, what with Quidditch going so poorly. She couldn't help but wonder now what memory he was thinking about. Maybe it was something to do with his family. Or winning a chess match. Or maybe . . . maybe something to do with her. She felt a blush creep up the side of her neck as she embraced this tiny moment of happiness. It wasn't even _her_ moment; it was his. Without thinking much, Hermione waved her wand—going through the motions at this point—muttered, " _Expecto Patronum_ ," and then a jolt came from her wand as an otter burst forth from it, as clear as Harry's stag.

Her eyes widened, shocked by the revealed creature. "I . . . I did it," she breathed.

"Good job, Hermione!" Harry shouted and Hermione smiled looking down at the little creature. "Always knew you could." He smiled as he approached her. "You can't just _remember_ the memory, you have to let it live inside you," he said, tapping his chest. "What memory did you use?"

Hermione said the first thing that came to her mind. "Getting my Hogwarts letter." She caught Ron giving her a sceptical look considering that was the memory that seemed to be giving her so much trouble minutes earlier. Their eyes connected for a moment and they both smiled.

Hermione had almost forgotten that Harry was next to her.

"I've only seen otters in books," he said, observing her Patronus with a curious grin. "It's kinda like Christmas. Everyone opening their own surprise."

 _'They are sort of nice, aren't they?' she said, looking at it fondly._

Almost as if they'd timed it that way, Ron let out a yell, "Hey, look at this!" as a small terrier Patronus ran around the room, tethered to his wand by a silver stringy wisp like a leash. Almost immediately, the dog turned, spotting the otter, and gave chase. Ron beamed proudly and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"I wonder what they mean," Cho said aloud. "Why they're all so different." Everyone gasped lightly as a large Patronus horse galloped in between the students. Hermione turned to see a grinning Ginny, head held high as she followed the horse with confidence.

"Miranda Goshawk says that a Patronus is a guardian that takes the shape of the animal with whom the witch or wizard shares a deepest affinity," she practically quoted the woman directly.

"Affinity? What's that about?" Ron asked her.

She shrugged. "I suppose in simplest terms, it means a relationship."

"Well, I have always been quite taken with foxes," Seamus grinned and winked at them all as his Patronus fox seemed to struggle to keep a solid form before disappearing into silver mist once more.

Ginny laughed. "Too bad they aren't taken with you."

"Well mine's a stag, like my dad," Harry offered. "Of course, that could just be a coincidence."

"I don't think they're coincidental," Luna said dreamily as she knelt on the floor, attempting to play with the silver hare in front of her, her gaze turning up to meet Hermione's with a smile causing the brunette witch to curiously wonder what Luna wasn't telling them as the otter and dog continued to run between her feet, circling one another.

* * *

The happy memories didn't last long for the D.A. members, or the rest of Hogwarts.

The D.A. had been caught and Dumbledore was sacked for it. With him gone, the school fell into a mess of chaos, and somehow even Hermione became thrilled by the prospect of Fred and George causing it. If it weren't for O.W.L.s coming up so quickly, she would have assumed everything about the school was worthless—especially now that Malfoy was on the Inquisitorial Squad which basically made prefects null and void.

Complete anarchy took over as Fred and George were pushed too far and the twins left Hogwarts on broomsticks, leaving nothing in their wake except for mass applause, fireworks, a swamp on the fifth floor, and copycat pranksters.

* * *

 **May 1996**

While Quidditch used to be something to look forward to—at least for the rest of the Gryffindors—it became something to dread as Slytherins chanted "Weasley is Our King!" around the castle and on their way out onto the pitch.

"I really don't think I can watch this," Hermione said with a heavy sigh after seeing Ron that morning, talking about there being nothing to lose. But to be there for Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way to the stands, Harry full of bitterness about not being able to play the game himself.

Harry and Hermione groaned with the rest of the Gryffindors. Predictably, horribly, the Slytherins on the other side of the stands began to sing:

 _'Weasley cannot save a thing_

 _He cannot block a single ring ...'_

 _'Harry,' said Hagrid's voice in Harry's ear. 'Hermione ...'_

For a split second, Hermione thought that she'd rather be anywhere than at the game, but when Hagrid pulled them into the Forbidden Forest only to meet his _full_ giant, half-brother, she was very, very wrong. Never before in her life had she wanted to watch Quidditch more.

 _'A giant! A giant in the Forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I-don't-believe- him!'_

 _'We haven't got to do anything yet! He's not asking us to do anything unless he gets chucked out and that might not even happen.'_

 _'Oh, come off it, Harry!' said Hermione angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that the people behind had to swerve to avoid her. 'Of course he's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?'_

 _There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears._

 _'You didn't mean that,' said Harry quietly._

 _'No ... well ... all right ... I didn't,' she said, wiping her eyes angrily. 'But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself-for us?'_

 _'I dunno-'_

 _'Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King ...'_

 _'And I wish they'd stop singing that stupid song,' said Hermione miserably, 'haven't they gloated enough?'_

That's all she needed now, was for Ron to be depressed when they had to inform him of Hagrid's plan and Harry's promise to look after Grawp should Umbridge finally getting around to sacking him. She'd already been bitter about the game before it had even started, and now she had to think of how to deal with Ron AND deal with a giant!

 _'Hermione ...' said Harry slowly._

 _'Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King ...'_

 _'No?' said Hermione in a hushed voice._

 _'YES!' said Harry loudly._

 _'HARRY! HERMIONE!' yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. 'WE DID IT! WE WON!'_

They'd won? They'd won! Hermione beamed up at Ron being carried on the shoulders of their fellow Gryffindors, a large silver cup clutched tightly in his hands. They'd won; Ron had won. The smile on his face caused her heart to swell and she'd almost completely forgot about Grawp and Hagrid when she realised something unbelievably horrible.

"Harry he won," she mumbled, watching the team rush into the castle, still cheering. The deepest, most guilt ridden feeling sunk into her chest. "He won the Quidditch Cup, and we weren't there to see him do it."

* * *

Despite the fact that he'd let in that first goal, something had changed inside of Ron. He thought of the few moments before the D.A. was broken up by Umbridge, before Dumbledore was sacked and everything went to hell. He thought of that stupid little silver dog, running around the Room of Requirement, chasing Hermione's Patronus otter. He remembered his happy feeling.

He'd tried other memories unsuccessfully. His first time flying on a broomstick. Making the Quidditch team. But as he'd struggled with the Patronus Charm, he couldn't help but notice that Hermione had been struggling too. She needed a little humility from time to time, he thought.

Ron immediately remembered the first time he'd really struggled with a charm and she'd made him feel worse by lecturing him on how to do it right. _Wingardium Leviosa_ ; he'd never felt lower. But then he remembered that the same charm she'd tried so hard to teach him was what he'd used to defeat the troll; to save _her_.

 _That_ was his happy memory. Not defeating the troll, but the look on her face when he'd successfully levitated a massive club into the air—when only a short time earlier he couldn't even lift a feather. Her eyes showed pride. It wasn't just the troll though—the look on her face _any_ time he ever did anything right. When they told her that he'd gone down into the Chamber of Secrets with Harry. The hours spent in the library with her, working hard to help Hagrid with Buckbeak's appeal. Not the moment that he'd received his prefects badge, but when she'd held it up to him and said it would look smart on him. His happy moments were when she was proud of him.

Sitting there up on his broom, Ron realised that he'd done something right. Not just one thing, but a bunch of things . . . and in the D.A. room he'd done another thing. He'd produced a corporeal Patronus because _she_ had believed in him. He wasn't rubbish; she'd told him that countless times and, although she didn't really understand Quidditch, he knew she was in the stands with Harry; believing in him.

He looked up and saw Bradley coming towards him out of nowhere, Quaffle in hand. Despite the stupid Slytherin's singing "Weasley is Our King" from the stands, he thought to himself, "You can do this,"' and dove left, catching the Quaffle in one arm. Immediately, the crowds cheers drowned out the singing Slytherins and he suddenly had another happy memory to focus on for a Patronus Charm.

Ron tossed the Quaffle out to Angelina who grinned at him and yelled, "Keep it up!" then turned to look at the stands where Harry and Hermione must have blended into the standing crowd.

By the time Ginny had caught the Snitch, Ron couldn't count on his hands how many times he'd stopped the other team from scoring, but suddenly the stands erupted into glorious cheers and he flew down to the field, screaming with joy as Angelina and Katie embraced him. Before he knew it, a silver cup was in his hands and he immediately thought back to the Mirror of Erised. He wasn't Quidditch Captain, but he _was_ on the team. He wasn't Head Boy, but he _was_ a prefect. And there in his hands was the Quidditch Cup. He'd done it. Ron couldn't help but wonder what the mirror would've shown him now.

Looking around, he instantly wished that Fred and George were there to celebrate with him; to see him holding the cup that he'd help win. Suddenly, he was lifted into the air as the crowd around him burst into song, screaming updated verses of "Weasley is Our King"'. Beaming with more pride than he'd ever felt in his entire life, Ron looked down and around the crowds, waiting to spot Harry and Hermione, but only saw them once they'd come close to the castle.

 _'HARRY! HERMIONE!' yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. 'WE DID IT! WE WON!'_

The party in the Gryffindor common room was more ridiculous than any he'd ever seen before. He had almost thought of owling Fred and George, but knew that the post was being monitored and thought better, still he knew that if anyone could properly celebrate something, it would be his brothers. Butterbeers filled every hand and Ron was having a hard time getting a moment to talk to Harry and Hermione because everyone else was coming up to congratulate him.

As the hours ticked on into the early morning, Hermione approached him with a bright smile on her face, though her eyes looked almost sad and he couldn't help but worry that something serious was on her mind. Probably O.W.L.s, he thought.

"I'm heading up to bed," she told him.

"Already?" he asked, having hoped that she'd stay up to celebrate with him.

"Still have O.W.L.s in two weeks," she admitted.

He shrugged, not wanting her to think he was very disappointed at her leaving. "I get it."

"Ron," she stepped closer to him so that she didn't have to yell over the crowd, "I want you to know something. I'm so, incredibly proud of you. No one deserves this moment more than you do. You've worked so hard for it."

Her words penetrated his chest and spread out across him like warm water, reaching all the way out to the tips of his fingers and down to his overgrown feet. He simply radiated joy in reaction to her, unable to say anything as he watched her walk up the stairs to her dormitory. A part of him suddenly felt brave enough to chase after her. He'd won the bloody Quidditch Cup, he could probably do anything! Unfortunately, she was already through the door and he didn't want to end this marvelous night of perfection with the entire Gryffindor common room watching him trip on the spelled stairs again. He'd let her rest tonight and would tell her all the details of the game tomorrow, excited to share with her and Harry what had been going on through his mind when he'd finally become a decent Keeper.

* * *

 _'You didn't watch?' he said faintly, looking from one to the other. 'You didn't see me make any of those saves?'_

How had the past day gone from amazing to this? Ron had woken up feeling the same elation that he had the night before. Harry and Hermione said they had something important to tell them so, as they walked out of the castle onto the grounds to get away from prying ears, Ron took the chance to talk about the match, hoping that enough cheerful news would keep things light. The expressions on their faces said that the news they had to share was too serious for this early in the day. He didn't think that their news would be _this_ bad though.

They hadn't seen him play? They hadn't seen him win?

 _'Well-no,' said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand towards him. 'But Ron, we didn't want to leave-we had to!'_

 _'Yeah?' said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. 'How come?'_

It felt like someone was sitting on his chest. Everything felt tight and awful and he had to force himself to breathe. It felt worse than vomiting up slugs. They hadn't seen him. He could tell them the story a thousand different times, but he might as well have been telling them Babbity Rabbity for all they knew, because they hadn't seen it with their own eyes.

She hadn't been there.

They told him their story of Hagrid, the Forbidden Forest and Grawp, and he'd actually forgotten about the bloody Quidditch Cup for two seconds before it was time to head back up to the castle. They had O.W.L.s to prepare for and as they walked, the Quidditch Cup came back into his thoughts and he looked down.

"You didn't see me," he mumbled under his breath as Hermione walked beside him, Harry running ahead. "I won the cup and you didn't see."

How had he been this invisible his entire life? He remembered hearing once that his mum didn't hear his first word—biscuit—because she was busy outside dealing with toddler twins Fred and George who had sneaked Charlie's old broom from the shed and were hovering above the garden; Percy had been the one to hear it. Neither of his parents had seen his first steps because his mum had gone into labour with Ginny and they'd rushed off to St. Mungo's; Charlie had been the one to see it. His dad hadn't even been there to see him off to King's Cross during first year.

Bill and Charlie left, then Percy, now Fred and George. All Ron had left in his life were Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. The three people in the world who could _see_ him. And one had been busy with her eyes on the Snitch while the other two—the most important two—had been with Hagrid.

"We wanted to," Hermione admitted with a frown. "We just thought—"

"You thought I'd muck it up, so what's the bloody point," he realised aloud. _That's_ why they'd left. They knew he would be a mess up there, and it would have been embarrassing to watch him.

"No, Ron of course not. But Hagrid seemed desperate, and if we knew that—" she began.

He turned and scowled at her. "If you knew that I was actually going to do something right? If Harry wasn't banned from playing, you'd have been there."

"Well, of course, he would have _had_ to have been there," Hermione insisted.

He stared at the ground, forcing himself not to let tears fill his eyes. "No, _you_ would have been there. If Harry had been playing and not just me, _you_ would have bothered to show up."

"I _did_ show up," she said defensively, which only upset him more. "I wanted to stay, but Hagrid said it was important.".

"Yeah, more important than me. Like everything else." He turned to walk away from her.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. "That's not what I meant! I'm so sorry Ron, when I found out . . . when I saw you so happy, that cup in your hands—"

"You said you were proud of me." He stopped in his tracks and turned back to face her, his lips tightening into a line. The cool air made his breath visible and he almost looked like a dragon, smoke coming out his nostrils, ready for an attack.

She frowned. "I _am_ proud of you."

"You didn't even _see_!" he yelled. "The most important moment . . . and you weren't there!" Glaring at her silently as she tried to protest, tried to offer apologies and condolences at the same time, Ron turned away and moved up the hill toward the castle, ignoring her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

 **June 1996**

 _'Hermione, we wanted to buy that!' shouted Ron._

They'd been preparing for their O.W.L.s all week and Ron was desperate to prove that he could do something right, maybe something Hermione could actually see. After all, she wasn't likely to skip out on their exams, no matter how much Hagrid needed them or how many giants were in a forest. But he knew that revising wouldn't help him even if he stayed up for days. Baruffio's Brain Elixir had been offered to them by Ravenclaw sixth year, Eddie Carmichael.

Hermione had just poured it down a toilet.

It was almost like she didn't even _want_ them to pass.

 _'Don't be stupid,' she snarled. 'You might as well take Harold Dingle's powdered dragon claw and have done with it.'_

 _'Dingle's got powdered dragon claw?' said Ron eagerly._

 _'Not any more,' said Hermione. 'I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know.'_

 _'Dragon claw does work!' said Ron. 'It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours-Hermione, let me have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt-'_

 _'This stuff can,' said Hermione grimly. 'I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried doxy droppings.'_

He'd barely spoken to her all week after their row, though he still seemed to be on decent terms with Harry—much to Hermione's irritation which only made Ron avoid her all the more. When they _did_ speak to one another, it was like they were in competition to see who could yell the loudest.

Ron was hurt over the Quidditch match and Hermione was on edge over the examinations. His bruised ego mixed with her obsessive nature was never a good combination. Unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. All they ended up ever doing was colliding, and then waking to asses the damage, which was usually monitored heavily by Harry, who seemed to be teetering on the idea of being done with both of them until they got their acts together.

The closer they got to exams, the less angry Ron seemed to be. Hermione was losing it and it just wasn't fun to argue with her anymore when every row nearly brought her to tears. Harry even mentioned she'd accidentally hit him in the face with her _Achievements in Charming_ book when he'd been helping her to revise for the exam.

She looked pale and the shadows around her eyes grew darker by the day. She'd snap at anyone who spoke to her, and had even overdone it on her prefect duties, taking away more points and handing out more detentions in one week than she had all year. Ron was certain she'd almost entirely stopped eating as well. She'd come down to meals, of course, and pick at her food subconsciously with books and notes in her hands. Once, while revising some of her History of Magic notes at the breakfast table, she'd accidentally used her quill as a fork and took a small mouthful of ink.

"Hermione you need to eat," Ron said from across the Gryffindor table, shoving a platter of sausages toward her. She didn't even hear him, her nose stuck in a book only to withdraw from it to dig into her bag, obsessively looking for notes.

Ron sighed. "Hermione, if you don't eat something and get some sleep, you're gonna faint in the middle of your exams and end up in the Hospital Wing."

 _'Oh, my goodness,' she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. 'Is that them? Is that the examiners?'_

Nothing could break her out of it.

When the exams actually began, she got worse.

Once, after heading into the common room after dinner, Ron found her in her usual chair looking over her notes, a lock of her bushy hair twisting tightly in one finger looking like it was likely to rip from her skull.

"You weren't at dinner," he stated as he walked over to her. She didn't respond so he stepped closer and looked down. "Hermione those are Charms notes."

She blinked slowly, her eyes red with exhaustion. "What?"

"Charm notes. Hermione, we did our Charm O.W.L. days ago." He looked down at her and was suddenly incredibly worried.

"Oh," she paused and then reached into her bag to pull out her Arithmancy notes as though it was no big deal, "have I done this?" she asked him, a blank and tired stare in her eyes. She looked as though she'd been confunded.

Ron shook his head. "Hermione, go to bed."

"Not tired," she said, her eyes drooping. "I need to . . ." She silently tapped the notes in front of her.

"Hermione get up to bed," he raised his voice. "I'd throw you over my shoulder and carry you up myself but the damn spelled steps would have us both breaking our necks before we reached the top."

"I'm . . . I'm . . . fine," she said and her face connected slowly with the table in front of her and she instantly fell asleep.

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking around the common room as though he were searching for someone that could help. Save for Hermione, it was surprisingly empty. Resolved to do something, Ron leaned down and lifted her into his arms and watched helplessly as her head fell backwards over the side of his elbow and her limbs hung limp in his embrace. He shook his head and carried her over to the couch, placing her down gently.

Crookshanks, who'd been curled up at the end of the couch turned and hissed at him.

"Oi! Piss off!" he cursed at the cat who darted off as Ron set Hermione down, moving her arms and legs so that she'd at least be comfortable whenever it was that she woke up. He sighed looking down at her, wishing there were more he could do, but at least she would get some rest for now.

* * *

When he'd woken the next morning, Parvati mentioned that Hermione was already gone. He hadn't seen her in the Great Hall for breakfast and, assuming she had gone to the library, he'd snuck in a piece of treacle tart—despite the fact that Madam Pince would skin him alive if she caught him. But Hermione wasn't there either. Ron began to worry.

"Mr. Weasley," someone called from behind as Ron made his way up a staircase, treacle tart still wrapped in a napkin held tightly in his hand. Almost out of instinct, he hid it as he turned to spot Professor McGonagall. "Shouldn't you be using your free time to prepare for your final exams?" she asked him, a thin brow raised.

"Er - I have been Professor," he partially lied. "Just taking a break is all. Thought I'd clear my head a little, and umm . . . catch up on some prefect duties. Patrolling and such."

McGonagall eyed him curiously. "I hope you're putting more effort into your O.W.L.s than your lies, Mr. Weasley."

"Loads more actually," Ron admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand sheepishly, having been caught.

"Carry on then," she said. "There is too much on my hands today to bother with one wayward prefect. It seems someone has put another niffler into Professor Umbridge's office. It's tearing the place apart and must be dealt with at once," she told him and then turned to walk away.

Ron couldn't help but snort a quiet laugh as he watched her walk in the exact opposite direction of Umbridge's office.

Eventually, he made it up the stairs to the fifth floor toward the prefect bathroom, very nearly ready to give up on his search for Hermione—assuming she'd at least show up for her next exam. He moved toward the door, slipping the wrapped treacle tart into a large pocket of his robes. When he heard a loud sniffle, he turned toward a large statue of Boris the Bewildered. Statues couldn't cry, could they?

Ron moved around the statue to find a bushy-haired Hermione, crumpled into a pile on the floor, knees to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as she cried.

"Hermione," Ron quietly said. "You weren't at breakfast. Been looking everywhere for you." He knelt down to her level when she wouldn't look up at him. "What happened?" he uncomfortably asked. The sight of girls crying had always left him feeling awkward and inept to help.

"It's too much," she admitted. "I feel like . . . like it's third year all over and I'm trying to keep up physically with the Time-Turner."

Ron immediately understood. Third year had been a nightmare. Between the ridiculous amount of classes Hermione had been taking plus everything to do with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew—not to mention working hard to keep Buckbeak alive—it was a shock that Hermione hadn't cracked earlier from the pressure. He hadn't remembered that until now, and realised that this year would have been much worse for her considering the effort she'd been putting into her O.W.L.s.

"You think too much is all. You know you're going to come away with at least twenty, all O's I reckon too," he said and grinned at her.

"Ron," she looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, "I've only eleven available to me."

He chuckled. "Exactly. But you're Hermione Granger, they're barking if they give you any less than fifteen." He beamed when he saw her smile at his words.

"I'm such a mess," she admitted.

"I think we all are at this point," he said as he scooted back against the wall beside her. "Everything else we've got going on this year, and it's the bloody _exams_ that're making everyone snap. Umbridge, Death Eaters, Harry inside You-Know-Who's head. But it's a Growth Charm performed in front of a five-hundred year old witch that does me in." He turned and smiled at her.

"Maybe we've just grown accustomed to all the dark and horrible things we have to deal with, that it's the normal occurrences that we react poorly to," she suggested with a loud sigh of exhaustion and, without thinking, leaned her head against Ron's shoulder as a post-cry headache started to set in.

"If there's anything that I can always count on at Hogwart's, it's you and Harry. And the fact that we'll probably end up fighting You-Know-Who at some point." The words came out a little nervously as he watched her head move to his shoulder.

It had been the only real physical contact they'd had since before Christmas when she'd shown up at Grimmauld Place and hugged him. At first, the small bit of connection stiffened his body in response, turning his ears slightly pink. But then he remembered that she had stopped crying, had even smiled once or twice and it had been all because of him. Ron felt ten feet tall and used what little bravery being in Gryffindor allotted him by moving his arm gently around her shoulders. He'd wanted to pull her in closer, fit her against his side comfortably, but in the end his nerves ran out and all he could come up with was a friendly pat.

He turned and looked at her, glad to see that her tears had dried up. "So, what was the final straw, if you don't mind me asking?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ugh. It's pathetic really," she admitted. "I came up to use the prefect bathroom, just to get away some place quiet so I could study."

He rose a brow. "And?"

"And I walked in and caught the Head Boy and Girl snogging in the corner." She could barely say the words without blushing.

Ron let out a loud barking laugh that almost sounded like Sirius. "After that whole bloody speech on the train?"

"It's not funny, and don't swear," Hermione admonished, but couldn't help smiling as she said the words. "I wanted to turn and run out but instead, I snapped and began yelling at them. I reminded them that the bathroom was a privilege and that they were to be held to a higher standard than everyone else. Then I . . . "

Ron grinned eagerly, his eyes begging her to finish.

"I gave them detention," she finally said.

Ron paused for a long moment and then burst into hysterical laughter. Hermione looked scandalised at first, but slowly the smile on her face returned and she too began to laugh, holding onto her side as tears of laughter filled the paths in her cheeks once made by tears of stress and anger.

"You gave the Head Boy and Girl detention . . ." Ron continued laughing, "for snogging!"

"I didn't even mean to, it just came out . . . I was screaming. They looked terrified and just ran for it!" She finally let out a loud sigh as she wiped the tears from her face. "Come on," she stood up, using his shoulder to push herself to stand, "I need to go back to the common room and finish preparing for my Arithmancy exam."

Ron stood up. "You need to eat something."

"I don't have time." Hermione tried to fight him but felt something being pushed into her hand. She looked down and opened the napkin to find the treacle tart and she couldn't help but smile softly, her eyes rising to meet his.

Ron awkwardly shrugged his shoulders. "Don't thank me. You take care of us the rest of the year," Ron said, throwing Harry into the mix. "It's only fair we make sure you don't starve during exams." He nervously shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and headed off toward the Gryffindor common room, Hermione in tow, treacle tart already stuffed into her hungry jaws.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

 **June 1996**

One moment they'd been taking their History of Magic exam and what felt like only seconds later they'd broken into Umbridge's office to attempt contacting Sirius after Harry's latest vision. When Ron had been apprehended by Warrington, the large Slytherin goon, he'd tried to raise the alarm for the others but the idiot clocked him good in the mouth. Before he knew it, Ron was being dragged down the hallway to find Ginny and Luna in a similar position. Ginny was fighting hard against her captor which caused the swelling pride in Ron's heart for his sister to grow—almost making him forget that she had tried to keep a secret boyfriend all year.

 _'Got 'em all,' said Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forwards into the room. 'That one,' he poked a thick finger at Neville, 'tried to stop me taking her,' he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, 'so I brought him along too.'_

Good for you, Neville, Ron thought. He'd have to make it up to his friend somehow if they survived this little encounter.

 _'Good, good,' said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. 'Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?'_

When Umbridge couldn't get the information she needed from them—and Snape had all but refused her request for more Veritaserum—the old toad snapped and threatened Harry with the _Cruciatus_.

Ron's eyes widened and he fought hard against Warrington. He noticed that the others were struggling too, but no one more than Neville who had a murderous look in his eye as he stared down Umbridge. Ron wasn't shocked to see Hermione intervene, but her attempt to persuade Umbridge into thinking that there was some sort of weapon Dumbledore had them finishing for him was a serious leap. He knew it was a lie. _Everyone_ knew it was a lie. Everyone in the room that wasn't completely mental at least, which, he thought, might include Luna as the girl seemed to stare blankly out the window unaware that things had gone to hell.

 _'I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?' asked Umbridge sharply. 'In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these-' she gestured around at Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna '-escape.'_

Ron struggled against Warrington as he watched Harry and Hermione leave the room, wandless. Defenceless for all intents and purposes. He looked ahead and glared at Malfoy who continued to toss Harry's wand in his hand as though it were a toy.

Malfoy grinned at Ron, his eyes glancing over at the others. "All alone. Do you think Umbridge would mind getting a little more blood on the carpet?" Draco laughed as he moved closer to Ron, whose lip was still bleeding madly, the gag in his mouth making it worse.

"Maybe we'll just have you clean it up before she gets back, yeah? Then again,"Draco glanced at Ginny who was still struggling against her captor, now being assisted by Millicent Bulstrode who seemed to have nothing else to do with Hermione gone, "I doubt Weasleys know a single Cleaning Charm." He laughed and the other Slytherins joined in. "That's why they're so filthy. Can't even afford enough water to bathe in. Of course, even the cleanest of waters can't wash all of the filth off of blood traitors." He sneered as he stepped closer to Ginny, finding her irritation the most amusing as it provoked Ron and Neville more.

With her arms held behind her back by the two large Slytherin girls, Ginny stopped struggling as she stared at Malfoy in front of her. For Ron, it felt like minutes passed as his little sister and the blond glared into each others eyes in some sort of competition; as if Ginny could break them if Malfoy blinked first. Then, with little warning, she gave a strong kick to his knee, buckling him to the floor. Ron could hear her laughing through her gag, unbelievably pleased with herself.

"You stupid bitch!" Malfoy screamed, reaching for his wand.

With little time to react and everyone's attention on Malfoy, Ron pulled forward against Warrington who tightened his grip. Using the leverage of Warrington's strength against him, Ron threw his head backwards into the Slytherin's face, hearing—and feeling—a satisfactory crack as the two connected.

Seeing the commotion, Malfoy turned his wand on Ron.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Luna cried from the window, her captor looking shocked as though she had forgotten that Luna was there in the first place. Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand and across the room, landing somewhere behind Umbridge's desk where he quickly ran, terrified, to retrieve it.

Warrington turned on Ron, bleeding from his nose and rushed him, grabbing him around the ribs and slamming him into the ground. While Warrington was busy punching him in the mouth again, making his split lip worse, Ron managed to grip his wand and poked it into Warrington's ribs, mumbling, " _Stupefy_!" and groaning as the large boy's body went rigid and heavy, pinning him down against the floor. "Ow . . ." Ron groaned.

Crabbe and Goyle turned to close in on Luna and Neville while Millicent Bulstrode and another girl continued to fight Ginny, who was now kicking and thrashing fiercely. Neville raised his wand and with an almost daring voice said, " _Impedimenta_!" and the Crabbe and Goyle both flew backward into Umbridge's desk, collapsing on the ground.

" _Stupefy_!"

" _Stupefy_!"

Ron had been able to push Warrington off him and aimed his wand at Millicent Bulstrode while Luna aimed hers at Ginny's other attacker and both went rigid and collapsed to the floor.

Ron pulled himself up, grinning at the lot of them. "Right, let's go get Harry and Hermione!" he said quickly, glancing out the window to spot his two friends escorting Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest.

"Wait! We're forgetting something," Ginny growled and narrowed her eyes behind Umbridge's desk where Malfoy knelt, hiding quietly as he scrambled to free his wand from where it was now trapped beneath Goyle. Realising his situation, Malfoy reached into his robes for where he had stashed the seized wands, gripping the first that he could reach.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Ron shouted and watched as Hermione's wand flew out of Malfoy's hand and toward him. With narrowed eyes, he bent to retrieve it, his wand remained on Draco. "Give me Harry's," he ordered.

"You think you lot frighten me?" Draco sneered at them, but the fact that he was the only one of his friends still conscious didn't escape him and his eyes revealed the truth that his words attempted to keep hidden. Malfoy looked terrified as four wands aimed at his face. "You think that you'll get away with—"

"We don't have time for this," Ginny snapped quickly at Malfoy and, waving her hand in an all too familiar motion that caused Ron's eyes to widen, a red flare shot at Malfoy from the end of Ginny's wand, smacking his face dead centre.

"W-What . . . What?!" Malfoy screamed loudly—shrilly—and swatted furiously at his face, crying in a high pitch as nearly a dozen large black bats emerged from his nose and began flapping against his face. Neville and Ron burst into hysterical laughter at the scene and Ginny stood there with an incredibly satisfied grin on her face.

" _Accio_ wand!" she shouted and Harry's wand flew from Malfoy's robes into hand. She turned and passed it over to Ron and smiled. "Sodding prick," she growled in Malfoy's direction, heading out the door where Ron could hear her mumbling under her breath, "Thinks he can call _me_ a bitch . . ."

Ron beamed. "I've never been so proud that she's my sister."

Neville looked back at Malfoy who had fainted, a small bat hanging upside-down, it's feet clinging to Malfoy's nostrils like a perch. "I'm glad she's on _our_ side."

* * *

Ron stirred in his sleep, a cold feeling moving across his body. Was he still in Umbridge's office? It all seemed blurry, like he couldn't remember if it was real or not. No, it had been real. They'd beaten the Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad and then gone down into the Forbidden Forest to find Harry and Hermione.

But his mind wandered. Was he dreaming?

He dreamt of flying without a broomstick. The feel of something holding him up, but when he looked down all he saw were mountains and roads and dark night sky covered cities with twinkling lights below staring up at him. And then the large city of London, and the Ministry.

The Ministry. They'd gone to the Ministry. They'd ridden Thestrals to get to the Ministry. Had that been a dream too? No, only Harry dreamed about the Ministry. Ron had seen it with his own eyes. Too many doors, too many rooms, large prophecies in small glass orbs, and something else . . . something important.

Death Eaters.

 _'REDUCTO!'_

Ron dreamed about running away. He remembered running away and shelves crashing down upon them, glass shards from broken orbs littering the floor all around them. He'd chased after Harry, Hermione and Neville with Ginny and Luna at his feet when suddenly he heard a loud cry and turned back to find Luna on the ground, having slipping on the broken glass. Ron reached for her hand, yanking her to her feet and yelling, " _Stupefy_!" over her shoulder, knocking a Death Eater onto his back.

"Which way?!" Ginny shouted and Ron turned back to their path to see that Harry, Hermione and Neville were gone.

"Harry!" Ron screamed and began running again, dragging Ginny and Luna with him, wand held at the ready.

They didn't have time to plan which direction to go. Four Death Eaters closed in behind them, one of them Bellatrix Lestrange. Taking initiative, Ron turned, yelled, " _Impedimenta_!" to give them a helping head start, and then rushed away from the room that continued to crash in all around them. Eventually reaching a door that Ron was certain to be the one they'd originally come in through, he opened it quickly and shoved Ginny and Luna inside before he slammed it behind them.

"Harry?!' Ron called out and his eyes went wide as he heard Ginny scream. Looking back he saw nothing but blackness illuminated by small white orbs hovering above them. The orbs were growing closer and Ron felt a sickening twist in his stomach. Was the room spinning? No, he caught a glimpse of Ginny six feet or so above him, struggling to find balance.

They were floating.

"What the bloody hell is the Ministry doing with a whole department like this?!" Ron screamed, his frustrations finally getting the better of him. "Bloody glass orbs full of prophecies, empty archways, tanks full of bloody brains, and floating dark rooms!"

"Ron, shut up!" Ginny yelled. "Help me back down!"

"Do I look like I'm in a place to help anyone?!" Ron shouted as he turned upside-down and caught sight of the glowing orbs moving closer as the three of them rose higher. "What're those?!"

"I think they're planets," Luna said calmly.

Ron clenched his teeth. "Oooof course they are."

" _Stupefy_!" he heard Ginny yell, and Ron turned his to look below them as three of the four Death Eaters that had been chasing them had entered the room. Damn, had he not locked it? Never in his life had he wished for Hermione more. She would have remembered to lock it. Then a sudden panicking feeling washed over him. Harry and Hermione weren't there, and Ron could do nothing to protect them. To Ron's horror, the Death Eaters were lifted off of an invisible ground too, floating upwards toward them.

"Geroff me!" Ginny screamed as a Death Eater that from this distance looked like Macnair reached up and grabbed hold of her foot.

" _Stupefy_!" Ron turned and shot, but missed.

" _Reducto_!" Luna yelled, and somehow that worked, though Ginny let out a nasty scream, reaching and taking hold of the foot that Macnair had gripped tightly onto before he fell to the floor, if there was actually a floor.

"Ginny!" he called out to her, trying his best to reach for her hand. If he could reach her, then just grasp Luna's hand, maybe they could stay together and figure out how to get down. But they couldn't just float around the room with Death Eaters and no hope of escape.

"I see a door," Luna said.

"Go!" Ron yelled as he noticed it too.

He turned to look back to see if the way was clear when he saw a wand aimed upwards toward Ginny, who was distracted, cradling her ankle. Ron reached up and felt his body rising in the darkness, and he somehow pressed himself in the gap between the Death Eater and his sister. "Ginny, go!" he screamed and pointed at Luna who had reached the door. But then the door became fuzzy and a warmth enveloped Ron's head. "That's . . . that's . . . " he heard his sister scream his name and he turned to look for her but found nothing save for the now large floating planets in front of them. "Ginny," he smiled brightly, "Ginny I could go to the moon like the Muggles!" His eyes wide with amazement.

" _Stupefy_!"

" _Reducto_!"

" _Impedimenta_!"

"What's wrong with him?" Ginny's voice called and Ron felt the floor beneath him again.

"I think he's been confunded," Luna's soft voice spoke. "Are you all right, Ginny?"

"No, I think something's broken, but I'm more worried about Ron. Is this what happens when you're confunded? Because it looks like . . . like . . ."

"It was probably a variation of the spell," Luna said calmly. "Make him seem more . . . "

"Drunk?"

"Than confused, yes."

His memory went blank for the most part after that with only small moments that he recalled such as asking if Ginny and Luna thought that Hermione would like it if he brought home a star for her. Or one of Saturn's rings.

He remembered that they'd found Harry.

 _'And what about Ron?' said Harry fearfully, as Ron continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes._

 _'I don't know what they hit him with,' said Luna sadly, 'but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all.'_

 _'Harry,' said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, 'you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony ... Loony Lovegood ... ha ha ha ...'_

And he remembered the Brain Room again. A large room where he felt excited, but then soon the excitement had gone away leaving him with flashes of severe pain, first in his arms and then around his chest, and ultimately everywhere else. It felt like a rope was wrapped around his body and then set on fire, but the burns hurt the least as the air was squeezed out of him. Ron's vision blurred and he felt incredibly sleepy. Someone screamed and Ron woke up with renewed energy.

 _'Diffindo!' yelled Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they would not break. Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds._

 _'Harry, it'll suffocate him!'_

His head went clear for a moment as the pain continued to sink in. Harry was trying to help him. Such a good friend. And Ginny was yelling. Why wasn't Hermione yelling? Why wasn't Hermione trying to help him? Had he done something wrong? He knew he should have brought her back a star, or a good chunk of Jupiter maybe. He looked around for her only to see her sleeping in the corner of the room.

"Someone wake her up," he mumbled, not realising that Harry and Neville were gone. "She'll be cross if she misses this . . . " he choked as the brain tentacles tightened around his chest. "Hermione . . ." he groaned and then clarity hit him. Hermione wasn't sleeping.

"Hermione?" He whispered, and panic set in around him worse than he'd felt in years. "Hermione?!" He screamed and struggled to reach her but then everything went black.

* * *

Ron opened his eyes and everything was still dark but instead of the cold wet floor of the Brain Room in the Department of Mysteries, he felt the semi-comfortable warmth of a bed below him. Had it all been a dream? But . . . but this wasn't his bed.

He made to sit up but everything in his body tightened and nothing but pain flooded him now when he moved. He could hear people talking somewhere close by but couldn't see without sitting up, which wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

"Harry will need a bed as well," Ron heard Professor Lupin. "He's been through a lot tonight." His voice sounded rough and lower than usual.

"They all have from the looks of it," Madam Pomfrey spoke sounding more than irritable. "Children. Oh Remus, what were any of them thinking?"

"They were only doing what they thought best," he replied sadly. "It's over now. Nothing left to do but heal."

"Easy for you to say," her voice raised slightly. "You've only got bruises then?" she asked him.

"Few scrapes here and there. Nothing I haven't had to deal with before. More worried about the rest," he sounded like he was coming closer.

"Mr. Weasley will be good in time. I'm still not entirely sure what variation of the Confundus Charm was used on him." Well, at least things were starting to make sense. Ron shut his eyes tightly trying to rid himself of the headache that seemed to persist. He felt like how Bill and Charlie used to look when he woke up after a night of drinking Firewhiskey. "Whatever those . . . those things were, however," Madam Pomfrey sighed, "he'll be scarred for quite some time, physically and . . . well, thoughts can leave deeper scars that almost anything else."

"I'm well aware," Remus replied. "How's Ginny?"

"An easy patch," Madam Pomfrey answered and Ron let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"And Hermione?"

"Poor girl," Madam Pomfrey said. "With this type of curse? I honestly don't know how a fifth year could have survived this! She should have died, Remus."

Ron felt his entire world go black again as his chest tightened harder and harder, forcing him to take in deeper breaths. Every part of him felt like it was on fire as he found himself struggling to move. Hermione had almost died. Hermione should have died. What had happened? Who had cursed her? He would kill them! The anger was rising inside of him and he sat up quickly, feeling like he had to do something or else it would burst inside of him. He had to find her.

"AARGH!" Ron yelled in pain.

"Mr. Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey moved to his bedside. "You need to be resting! You must lay back!"

Ron struggled and felt firm hands pushing down against his chest. "Noo!"

"Ron," Remus spoke softly. "Ron you've all been through a terrible ordeal and you've been badly injured. You must listen to Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm getting a Sleeping Draught," Madam Pomfrey said quickly.

"No!" Ron shouted. "No more sleep!" He panicked and felt himself fall back onto the bed, lacking the energy to fight. "I need . . . where's Hermione?" He looked up at Remus, eyes wide and bloodshot. "I need to see . . ."

"Ron," Remus said, suddenly understanding. He held a hand up to Madam Pomfrey who was holding the Sleeping Draught in her hands. "Much has happened, but Hermione is alive and she will survive this," he promised. "She's very strong. You all are."

"What happened?" Ron asked and watched as Remus aged before him.

"Much."

Hours later, after he'd reassured Madam Pomfrey that he could sleep on his own, Ron found himself wide awake. The Hospital Wing was empty and silent now, save for the snores of the patients there, several of whom were members of the Order, plus a delusional and now unconscious Dolores Umbridge, who kept muttering, "Filthy beasts..." in her sleep.

Despite his promise, once Madam Pomfrey left the room closing the office door behind her, Ron slipped out of his bed. Remus had promised him that Hermione and the others would be fine, but he had to see it for himself. He winced, inhaling a sharp breath as pain shot through him. Madam Pomfrey had given him something to take the edge off, but Ron was certain it wasn't working. His arms felt like dead weights, but still on fire, and his chest and head burned and throbbed. He moved from bed to bed, checking first on his sister who had a wrapping around her broken ankle. Ron took several more steps and found an empty chair beside a sleeping Hermione. The table next to her was filled with potion vials and bottles; at least ten or fifteen. He fell into the chair and hissed as pain shot up his spine, lingering at the back of his neck for a few moments.

He watched her carefully, staring at her chest as it moved up and down, much to his relief. He drew his eyes to her face once he was certain she would continue breathing. Almost died. Should have died.

Like Sirius.

He winced at the thought, trying to choke back tears. He hadn't been strong enough to handle the Department of Mysteries. He hadn't been strong enough to fight properly. He'd let himself get separated from Harry, Hermione, and Neville, and hadn't been strong enough to protect them all.

He would have to be strong enough now.

As though he knew he needed help with that, he reached out and took Hermione's small hand within his own. Though the pain still lingered, somehow it felt like she made it bearable.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

 **June 1996**

Hermione's eyes opened and she immediately reached for her ribs. It felt like something hot was stabbing her and the pain spread across her side. She remembered being attacked and hit with something. Wincing in pain, her eyes were drawn to the bottles beside her bed. The sun was rising and the bright rays of light reflected through the many coloured vials. Through an empty one on the corner, she saw a glimpse of red hair and forced herself to sit up. In the chair next to her she found Ron, crumpled into a heap as though he'd been tossed into it.

Unconscious with a strained look on his face, Hermione frowned when she saw him twitch violently in his sleep. Her eyes drew down to his arms, held close to his chest, with large, deep welts covering the skin. She gasped and the action caused her ribs to hurt and Hermione let out a soft whimper.

Ron's eyes immediately opened and despite the fact that it clearly hurt him to move, he leaned over, reaching for her hand instinctively. "Lay back," he ordered her. His voice was serious, uncharacteristically commanding, which only worried her more. Over the years that she had known him, Ron had always been the one to relieve the tension in the room with humour. He was the one to bring light into harsh situations. But when things got really dark, it was always Ron who suddenly took control, becoming the protective and courageous Gryffindor lion. It caused her heart to swell with admiration, but only made her realise that something terrible must have happened to have turned this side of him on.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks as she reached out to his arms, not wanting to hurt him by touching his wounds, she let them hover there for a moment. "Ron, what happened?"

"I'm fine," he promised, eyes dark as he repeated, "Lay back."

She did as she was told but her eyes widened. "Harry!" She remembered they'd been fighting side by side and when she'd been hit. There were Death Eaters . . . how many were there? She couldn't remember. "Ginny, Luna, Neville . . ." she looked up at Ron with pleading eyes.

"All alive," he promised, though he seemed to be holding something back.

"What happened?" She asked him plainly, terrified of the answer.

"Neville's got a broken nose," he informed her. "He's already been fixed up and sent back to Gryffindor Tower. Luna's back in her dorm too. Ginny broke her ankle and Madam Pomfrey's off walking her around a bit to see if she's mending properly." Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief, very grateful for magic and the speedy recovery people could make after injuries.

"And Harry?"

"He'll be okay," Ron promised. "He wasn't . . . injured," he said hesitantly.

She looked back down at his arms. "What about you?"

"Well, sticking with Harry after first year I guess I expected to walk away with a few battle scars in the end, didn't you?" He tried to smile and Hermione just frowned at him. "I'll be okay," he shrugged, clearly not intent on telling her the details of his injuries.

"How did we get here?" she asked. "The Death Eaters? What happened?"

"Captured. Most of them anyway. Lucius Malfoy for sure." His lip curled into a satisfied smirk, and Hermione felt a great relief wash over her. "I don't know all the details myself," he cleared his throat. "Professor Lupin told me everything when he was here last night."

Her eyes widened. "Lupin?"

"The Order showed up. Damn near the whole lot of them. Not Mum or Dad though," to which Ron appeared grateful as he exhaled quickly. "Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley . . . Sirius."

"Sirius?!" Hermione sat up again and winced.

"Lay back," Ron insisted, his voice raising slightly. He stood up and placed a firm hand against her shoulder as if to hold her there. He looked like moving at all was causing him severe pain, but he didn't speak of it and he didn't retreat back into his chair until she settled against her pillow. He finally retook his seat, eyeing her first to make sure she didn't try and move again.

"But Sirius . . ." She remembered the whole reason for going to the Ministry. Sirius had been taken. Hadn't he? No, she remembered Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange laughing at them. It had been a trap. And they'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She felt so foolish, though it _had_ been her who warned Harry about something like that happening. Of course she couldn't dwell on that now, she had - in the end - gone along with it all.

"Hermione . . ." Ron paused, his face rigid like he was forcing himself to sit still and remain calm. "Sirius . . . he's gone," he whispered.

"What?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," was all he replied with.

Ron filled her in on everything else. Dumbledore showing up to save the day. Voldemort's appearance, though Ron still said 'You-Know-Who'. He mentioned that Remus informed him that things should be changing in the Ministry, and that the Order had been called in to report to the Aurors and Fudge, who had a lot of explaining to do since now he was certain Voldemort had returned. Hermione thought to ask about Percy, but thought better of it.

She let tears run down her cheeks but didn't wipe them away, it hurt to move her arms away from her sides. Sirius was dead. She couldn't believe it. Poor Harry. Her eyes turned back to Ron as he'd fallen silent, his head hung low and she could barely see the shadow of his eyes. One of her small hands was held tenderly within both of his own, his fingers trailed over the smooth skin of the back of her and delicately, like he was focusing on something.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered.

"Can I ask . . ." Ron began hesitantly. "Hermione, how'd you," he pointed to her ribs. "Survive?"

The words seemed sharp and shocking. Survive. She'd survived and Ron looked terrified. Which meant that she shouldn't have lived throughout whatever she'd endured. She'd figured Dolohov had moved to kill, but the thought that she could have died suddenly scared her all over again. She blinked and looked down at the bandages that covered her, buried beneath the sheet and blankets. "Silencing Charm I suppose," she shrugged lightly. "He couldn't say the curse aloud. Must have made it less effective." She let out a small smile of appreciation when Ron looked extremely relieved at her answer, and lightly tightened his grip on her hand as if holding onto her so that she wouldn't float away.

"Do me a favour, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Hmm?"

"Don't almost die on me again, okay?" The words sounded like he was trying to use humour to defuse a serious situation, but the look on his face said that there was truth in there. Hermione only smiled in reply, unable to say a thing out loud. Something told her that she couldn't promise anything like that.

There was no doubt now.

They were at war.

A week later they sat on the Hogwarts Express, ready to go home. Hermione couldn't imagine what she was supposed to tell her parents about the year. She'd been grateful to know that no one had let them know about her injury or the fact that she'd snuck into the Ministry of Magic. How could she tell her Muggle parents that her world was at war? They'd never send her back to Hogwarts. She had to help. This was her world now. These were her friends, and being Muggle-born, she was in danger regardless of being at school or not. As Sirius' death lingered in her mind, Hermione began worrying about her own family. They could not get involved in this war. If they asked about her injuries, she'd tell them she fell off a broom. It wasn't like she enjoyed flying anyways.

 _'What's-er- going on with you and her, anyway?' Ron asked quietly, looking up as Cho passed their compartment._

 _'Nothing,' said Harry truthfully._

 _'I-er-heard she's going out with someone else now,' said Hermione tentatively._

She was secretly grateful for what seemed to be normal conversations now. Harry wouldn't talk much about Sirius, or even Voldemort, but he would talk about regular things like classes, Quidditch and girls.

 _'You're well out of it, mate,' said Ron forcefully. 'I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful.'_

 _'She's probably cheerful enough with someone else,' said Harry, shrugging._

 _'Who's she with now, anyway?' Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered._

 _'Michael Corner,' she said._

 _'Michael-but- ' said Ron, craning around in his seat to state at her. 'But you were going out with him!'_

 _'Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,' he said, prodding his queen forwards towards Harry's quivering castle. 'Good for you. Just choose someone-better-next time.'_

 _'Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?' asked Ginny vaguely._

 _'WHAT?' shouted Ron._

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his overreaction. Several months ago, his big brother protectiveness seemed offensive and ridiculous, but now after everything they'd been through, it felt so relaxing to think that at this very moment, Ginny's new boyfriend was the worst thing in Ron's life - and therefore, the most dramatic thing in the small compartment.

Once off the train, the group made their way through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and Hermione, without thinking ran into her parents arms. As her father hugged her tightly, she winced and pulled away from him, ultimately feeling stupid and embarrassed. Nearby, Ron noticed and kept his eyes firmly on her to see that she was alright.

"What's wrong?" Hermione's father asked, suddenly looking worried.

Hermione shrugged. "Tried flying again. Fell off the broom and landed funny," she said and gestured to her ribs. "Just a little bruising."

Her mother frowned. "Oh darling."

"I'm fine," she promised, feeling guilty for lying. She turned and took notice that not only had Ron heard her lie, but so had Mrs. Weasley and suddenly the guilt increased tenfold.

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering in her ear, "don't you worry about a thing," and Hermione sighed with mild relief. Mrs. Weasley understood. Considering how Mr. Weasley spoke about Muggles, it seemed his wife was well aware of what could and could not be handled by non-magical folk. While Mr. Weasley distracted her parents, asking them how many electrical plugs they owned, Mrs. Weasley took Hermione's hands.

"Remember in the hospital dear, when Arthur . . " she paused. "Poor, lovely man," she sighed as a look of mild irritation crossed her face. "Stitches, I tell you, Muggle stitches," she rolled her eyes.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "I remember."

"What I mean to say is," Mrs. Weasley continued. "Sometimes two worlds aren't meant to cross. Muggle things can't always fix magical things," she said softly. "You're a smart girl," she reached up and touched Hermione's cheek and Hermione understood, grateful to have an older witch to look up to. "You're coming to the Burrow this Summer, yes?" She asked.

"I plan on it," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Good, good," she nodded quickly. "Ron's going to be a big grump until you get there," Hermione blushed and looked away quickly. Mrs. Weasley added. "You and Harry."

She moved along with the group to confront the Dursleys, suddenly filled with a great sense of strength as she looked around at their numbers. Standing next to Ron, she watched as he stood a little taller, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he stared ahead at Harry's massive cousin who only looked away from Ron's glare. Hermione grinned, that feeling of pride creeping inside of her again as she looked up at Ron stern, protective face.

 _'Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can,' Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again._

 _'We'll see you soon, mate,' said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand._

 _'Really soon, Harry,' said Hermione earnestly. 'We promise.'_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

 **July 1996**

"What do you mean de-gnome the garden?" Ron asked his mother, his jaw slack and his eyes wide with what appeared to be the onset of heartbreak. She'd broken his heart. His own mother. Tore his summer holiday right out from under him. "We _just_ got home!" he insisted.

"You got home almost two weeks ago, Ronald Weasley," Mrs. Weasley scolded him as she moved around the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. The pans in the sink were already rinsing themselves. Mrs. Weasley reached for the platter of scones on the table and before she snatched the plate away, Ron dove for the leftovers, grabbing two scones in his hand and clutching them to his chest like treasures.

"That's what I said." Ron shook his head, not understanding where the miscommunication happened. "It's holiday, Mum," he whined. "Why've I got to start working already?"

"Because your brother is coming home this Wednesday, and I want the house to be a welcome sight!" She snapped at him, clearly not in a mood to debate with her youngest son. She'd been in a mood since her children had arrived home. Since finding out what happened in the Department of Mysteries, Mrs. Weasley had been hovering over her family obsessively. With the majority of her kids living away from the Burrow, she began carrying around the large family clock from room to room to make certain that she knew where they all were at any given time. Though it made little difference with Voldemort on the rise again as the hands on the clock always pointed to 'Mortal Peril'.

"Then let _him_ de-gnome the bloody—" He started and then paused. "Wait, which brother?" He rose a brow immediately thinking of Percy but scratched that idea. His parents would probably be much happier about Percy's return, but the strained look on his mother's face seemed to tell him that she wasn't all too pleased with the approaching visit. Couldn't be the twins. They hadn't completely moved themselves out yet. Had to be Charlie. Was he bringing home a dragon with him?

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley said and left it at that.

"Bill doesn't care about bloody gnomes," Ron argued.

"Ronald." His mother stopped and leant against the kitchen counter, her back facing him as she took in deep breaths. Ron's eyes widened slightly. Why wasn't she yelling yet? She should have been yelling. He was used to yelling. His mum yelled all the time. It was her preferred volume and was as often heard around the house as Celestina Warbeck was heard around Christmas. He'd cursed in front of her and tried to get out of chores. Why wasn't she yelling at him?! Suddenly he felt scared. A calm mum was a scary mum.

"I'll just go . . ." He slowly took several steps backwards, the same way he'd previously tried to tip-toe around the sleeping three-headed dog—Fluffy—during his first year at Hogwarts. "Going to take care of those . . . gnomes, then," he said, keeping his voice low.

Once outside, Ron turned his attention to the task at hand, he'd just leant over to grip a gnome who was scrounging for worms, when there was a loud BOOM from behind him. Eyes wide, Ron turned to look up at the house and saw purple smoke pouring out of a second-floor window.

"IF YOU TWO DON'T PACK UP THAT NONSENSE BEFORE YOU LEAVE THIS HOUSE...!" Mrs. Weasley screamed.

"What was that?" Ron asked Ginny as she slipped outside to avoid getting in trouble by association.

"Mum told Fred and George to pack up their room. She wants to set it up nice for Harry so he doesn't have to sleep on a camp bed in your room. Course he can't go in there with all that stuff laying about. It's not even the ready merchandise for their store. They've got all the good stuff locked up in their storeroom. They've left all the experiments here." Ron winced; the last thing they needed around the Burrow was untested Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products.

"Maybe tell Fred and George to stick some of their stuff in Bill's room. He's the reason I'm out here and not enjoying summer," he pouted.

Ginny scoffed looking extremely irritated. "Bill's not the reason we're cleaning up the house."

"Mum says he's coming home." Ron reached down and took a tight hold of a gnome and yanked it hard from the dirt, laughing a little as its face screwed up and it began fussing about, trying to get free.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Bill's not coming home to visit. He's coming home to deliver."

"Deliver what?" Ron turned to look at her curiously, the gnome still tight in his fist.

"His girlfriend—or . . . fiancé," Ginny said the word with a breath of levity.

"F-Fleur?" Ron's eyes widened. "Bill's m-marrying . . . F-Fleur?" He dropped the gnome he'd been holding, and the second it hit the ground, the little beast turned and kicked him in the ankle for good measure.

"Ow! You grimy little shit!" Ron yelled.

"Ronald! Language!" his mother's called from the open kitchen window and his ears turned scarlet.

Ron turned on his sister who stood a few feet back, a smirk on her face as she watched him dance on one leg, holding his ankle in his hands. "How do you know they're engaged?"

Ginny shrugged. "Overheard Mum and Dad talking last night. Bill owled yesterday. Wants her to come and get to know everyone, or I guess let us all get to know her." She rolled her eyes. "Mum's in a right state over it."

"Why?" Ron scowled a bit, letting go of his foot and turning his attention back on the garden to look for his attacker, who he was now planning on tossing in the pond instead of over the hedge. "Bill's almost five years older than she and Dad were when _they_ got married."

"Yeah, she just doesn't like Fleur. She probably thinks she's going to steal him away to France and turn him into a pompous ass who won't like her cooking or something," Ginny said with a laugh

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's mental. Gotcha!" he yelled, snatching up the gnome and practically drop kicking it out over the hedge with a look of great success on his face.

"Don't let Hermione see you do things like that," Ginny warned him. "I think she's coming the same day as Bill."

"No," Ron said casually, his attention focused on searching for more gnomes. "Hermione's coming on Thursday," he corrected her. "She'll be here in time for breakfast."

Ginny raised a brow and a smirk grew across her face. "That's a detailed answer," she commented. "When's Harry supposed to be here?" she asked curiously.

"How should I know?" Ron shook his head. "Do I look like his bloody secretary?" He rolled his eyes at his sister, who was laughing to herself about something though Ron couldn't tell what. "If you're going to stay out here and distract me, you could at least help," he snapped at her.

"I've got my own chores." Ginny sneered at him and made her way into the house. "You better put something on your skin before too long or you'll look a right red git when Hermione shows up," she teased.

After de-gnoming the garden, Ron had been told to clean up the old pond. Despite the fact that it was getting colder in the larger cities—partly thanks to Dementors—it was planning to be a warm summer at the Burrow, and with the inability to leave the property without proper Ministry escort, there would be little to do other than play Quidditch and swim. He'd groaned about another chore, but set to work just the same, picking out chicken feathers that had been blown into the water. He wasn't overly preoccupied with the idea of swimming in the small pond. He was too tall now, so he could touch the bottom at the deepest part of it. He'd much rather just play Quidditch, especially once Harry arrived.

Hermione wouldn't like to play, though. She disliked flying and was easily frustrated about not being able to play properly. She was easily frustrated over anything she wasn't perfect at. Flying and divination being two of very few things she didn't excel at and, therefore, despised. She'd just end up stuck in Ginny's room with her books, and his mum would yell at them all to make sure she was involved. Maybe Hermione would like to go for a swim.

Ron winced later that afternoon as Mrs. Weasley set laundry baskets at the foot of the staircase, too busy with cleaning the rest of the house to carry them up to the individual rooms herself. "Ew, Ginny, put your knickers away so I don't have to look at them."

"Don't go looking through my laundry then!" Ginny snapped at him, reaching for the hamper. "Those aren't my knickers you big git. That's my swimming costume."

"That little thing?!" Ron's eyes widened. "The hell it is!"

"Mum bought it for me, and I don't need your permission to wear it!" she snapped.

"Where's the rest of it!?"

"Right here," she said and reached and pulled out a separate top that appeared to be two small pieces of fabric held together with what looked to Ron like trainer laces. Ginny looked overly pleased as Ron's face lost all colour with the exception of his red ears.

"No," he shook his head, "you're not wearing that. I'm not gonna let my sister be seen in—"

"By who? You? We're stuck here at home. It's not like anyone outside the family's going to be looking at me." She began to climb the stairs, basket in hand.

"But . . . Harry's gonna be here!" Ron called after her.

"Oh, well maybe I'll ask him to take a swim with me then." She grinned down at Ron, a shifty look in her eye. She was enjoying this way too much.

"Over my dead body!" Ron screamed up the stairs as Ginny left with her laundry basket and the swimming knickers.

"Ronald, lower your voice." Mrs. Weasley came walking into the room, a scowl on her face. "There's no need to go about screaming and shouting all the time." She sighed irritably. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour for Bill and his . . . guest," she muttered quietly. "And please do not fight with your sister in front of company."

"Did you . . . Mum she . . . swimming costume!" he stammered loudly his long, lanky arm pointing up the stairs after his sister.

"What are you going on about?" She turned, hands on her hips. "Oh, you're going to need a haircut before too long," she reached up casually, ignoring his quivering temper as she ran her hands through a few wispy strands of his hair. "I can't do anything about Bill's choices in . . . hair length," she paused as though she were considering her words carefully, and her nose seemed to twitch, "but I can certainly still manage yours," she said with determination.

"Mum, never mind my hair." Ron brushed her hand away. "Have you seen what Ginny's planning on wearing at the pond?"

"Oh yes. I didn't think much of it myself." She sighed loudly. "But it seems the fashion these days. Though it cost just as much as one with three times the fabric."

Ron gaped. "You're _letting_ her wear that?"

"I'm picking my battles," she admitted. "I tell Charlie to not fly so high on his broom when he was twelve and now he's run off with dragons. I tell the twins to focus on their education and they drop out of Hogwarts. I tell Bill to cut his hair and now he's gone and . . . " Her nose twitched again. "I have enough to worry about with other children," she said. "Don't get me started on you." She pointed her finger at him. "Sneaking off to the Ministry and duelling Death Eaters," she mumbled under her breath. "If I let your sister choose one little swimming costume, maybe I can keep her from eloping with a vampire some day!" Her voice was teetering between sarcastic and hysterical. "Besides, apparently all the girls wear them now."

"Not all girls," Ron insisted, upset that his mother didn't appear to be on his side. He wondered if their parents knew that Ginny'd had a boyfriend last year, or that she was already dating someone else. Dean Thomas, who was a year older than her. "Hermione won't be wearing one."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley chuckled, "such a sweet boy," she said quietly as she walked up and patted his cheek.

* * *

He couldn't help it now. The following days all he could think about was Hermione in a swimsuit the size of the one Ginny had in her laundry basket. It took all his energy to focus on one task at a time, and that included eating. When his parents tried to have conversations with them, he stared blankly, his head tilted to the side as if waiting for a translation. Would Hermione really wear something like that? Something that would show off so much of her? He remembered gawking at her chest earlier that year and how he'd never noticed her breasts before. Even then they'd been well hidden beneath layers of clothing.

He couldn't help now but wonder what they'd look like, exposed save for the small bits of fabric. He'd never seen much of her skin before, and began wondering what the curve of her hips looked like. His eyes closed and he couldn't help but smile as a vision of Hermione in a swimsuit appeared. She stepped out of the pond behind the Burrow, her bushy hair sopping wet and trails of water cascading down each curl which clung to the skin of her flushed neck, and then moved like tiny rivers downward, flowing in the valley between her breasts, descending south where it pooled in her navel.

"Ronald! Wake up!" someone screamed and Ron jerked awake.

"Bill's going to be here any moment! Get dressed!" his mum shouted through the door.

"Bloody hell," Ron exhaled and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow.

He'd barely had time to get his trainers on before Mrs. Weasley was calling up the stairs again. He ran down the stairs, stopping once in the bathroom to very quickly brush his teeth, wishing he had time for a shower. He desperately needed a cold one.

Ron scratched at the healing sunburn on the back of his neck that had been only slightly helped by one of his mum's Healing Charms. Ginny had offered to help with a devious smirk on her face—clearly eager to say 'I told you so'—and Ron ended up telling her to piss off. As a result, Mrs. Weasley took the pain away from his burn, but left the uncomfortable itch and a bit of the awkward looking redness, as what he perceived to be a new and twisted form of punishment for mouthing off at his sister. As usual, Ginny—the perfect child—got away, her record with the parents still pristine.

The family had assembled themselves together for Bill's arrival, with the exception of Percy—who insisted on remaining a prat—and Fred and George who were busy at their new shop in Diagon Alley. Charlie was still travelling around Eastern Europe working for the Order but had sent an owl that morning promising that he would be there before Bill and Fleur's wedding. That is, if a wedding was still in the foreseeable future after Mrs. Weasley had her say about it.

Ron couldn't concentrate on the prospect of a future wedding, though. Not with the lingering dream of Hermione in his head.

There was a loud CRACK and Bill appeared a short way up the hill, hand in hand with what looked to be a blond-haired . . . silvery . . . flowing . . . slender . . . beautiful . . . enchantress. Ron felt his shoulders relax and his jaw fall open as his eyelids drooped to a lazy stare.

Bill smiled and embraced Mrs. Weasley immediately. "Mum, Dad, you remember Fleur." He gestured to the French girl who's long silver-blond hair was pulled softly back into a loose plait.

"Of course, dear how are you?" Mrs. Weasley forced a tight smile.

"Eet ez so good to see you again." Fleur beamed at Bill's parents, leaning in to kiss Mr. Weasley first on both cheeks and then Mrs. Weasley. Fleur's eyes turned and scanned the Burrow behind them and she smiled politely. "Your 'ouse ez very . . . " she paused for a long moment, "sweet."

Mrs. Weasley bristled.

"Ronald, you are very tall now," Fleur said, stating the obvious as though there were little else to mention about Bill's youngest brother who now towered over her. Ron replied by simply blushing and giggling under his breath, unable to make proper eye contact with her.

"Hang in there, pal." Bill patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get through this," he said, as though he perfectly understood what was happening and knew that there was little Ron could do about it.

"And Ginny," Fleur said with a bright smile. "Such a preetty _little_ girl. You must let me do somezing wiz this hair," the words had a tone of kindness, but no one would have been able to tell by Ginny's reaction as Fleur reached up and touched Ginny's long copper hair. "You will be my seester soon after all."

Ginny's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.

"That's nice of her." Ron smiled stupidly as the family walked back toward the house. Ginny glared at him.

"You're an idiot," she snarled.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

 **July 1996**

"All packed darling?" Helen Granger approached the doorway of her daughter's room, a sad smile growing on her lips. Hermione had been home from Hogwarts for such a short time, and already she was leaving to go off back into the wizarding world. It had become quite routine for Hermione to spend most of the year away at school, but it wasn't until recently that her winter and summer holidays were being taken up by things and people that her parents couldn't understand.

"It's safer there." That's what the Grangers had been told when the Weasley family offered to let Hermione come and stay with them. While Hermione's parents didn't know all of the details of what was happening, they'd learned to trust their daughter and the Wizarding family that they'd come to greatly respect over the past years since their children became friends. Especially after all the unfortunate things that had been happening around the country lately. Murders, bridges collapsing, and the terrible and unprecedented weather conditions. Richard Granger had asked Arthur Weasley on the telephone—which the latter had been thrilled to use—if a proper explanation could be given. Mr. Weasley regrettably could not offer him one, stating that the Grangers being Muggles actually put others at risk—Hermione included—if they knew too much. Richard wasn't thrilled with the idea of Hermione leaving so soon after coming home, especially after he'd overheard his wife giving their daughter "the talk".

"Mum, there's nothing to be worried about," Hermione insisted on the other side of the bedroom door where Richard eavesdropped. "I'm much too busy with school and everything else to even consider such things."

"Darling, we only want what's best, and we're not too old to understand what happens when you're this age. Your father and I were your age when we first began—"

"Mum!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed about," Helen insisted almost irritably. She'd always had an open relationship with her daughter and was finding it frustrating that Hermione was suddenly quiet and reserved about talking to her. Magic was one thing, but romantic involvements were something that Helen felt she should be able to talk to her daughter about. "Look, we don't see you all that often, Hermione—"

"I write to you both every week."

"Yes with updates on the weather, your homework—which is all well and good," her mum said with a sigh. "Hermione, the past year or so your letters have become a bit lacking on your social life. We've heard more about Crookshanks than your friends. And when we do," Helen smiled, "well, I can tell when my daughter is focused on something." Hermione blushed. "The fact remains that your world—this new world—is very different from ours, and you're pulling away from us too soon. Your father and I have made peace with the fact that one day you'll just be gone. You'll be a witch and . . ." she tried to finish, but stopped to dab a tissue at the corner of her eyes.

"I am a witch, already. I can have both worlds," Hermione insisted.

"Then let me have some control of this part of _ours_ ," her mother said. "You say it's nothing to worry about, but if you could hear the way you talk about Ronald . . ."

Hermione blushed again and looked away.

Outside the door, Richard braced himself against the wall.

"Mum, I'm not—"

"Let me finish," Helen interrupted her. "You're spending nearly the whole summer with this boy, and then running off to school where you practically live together."

"In separate dormitories! He can't even get up the stairs to my room if he tried!" Hermione attempted to make it as clear as possible. "He actually did try once," she paused to recollect, "not for . . . for anything like that, Mum, anyways . . ." She sighed in frustration. "There are spells that keep the boys out. They can actually get quite injured if they try."

Richard promised himself that he would send a thank you card to whoever was in charge of that bit of magic.

Helen chuckled. "And you think it's only your _bedroom_ that you can get into trouble in?"

"Don't give her any ideas!" Richard said loudly.

"Dad!"

"Richard!"

Hermione and her Mum yelled at the same time. Helen stood up and walked to the door. "Go downstairs, right this minute," she ordered him.

"But . . . Helen, you can't be serious . . . but she's—" he pointed at Hermione with a sad, broken-hearted look on his face.

"She's growing up, and I'm handling this!" Helen pointed down the stairs and watched until Richard was out of sight before closing and locking the door behind her.

She ran a hand down her blouse and moved back toward Hermione's bed where her daughter looked completely scandalised, head in her hands. "Now, where was I?"

"You were in the middle of creating an awkward memory for me to recollect years from now, possible in therapy," Hermione complained, trying to be as respectful as possible while still attempting to avoid the entire conversation. "You know I don't need this, right?" she asked. "I've read all the books."

"Of course you have," her mother laughed, "and you're . . . being safe?" Helen finally came out with it. "Do we need to make you an appointment with a doctor?"

"Mum," Hermione spoke slowly and clearly. "There is no need for any of this," she assured her. "But, since you don't seem to be able to drop the subject, I promise you if a situation were to ever arise in the future—the _far_ future," she added quickly, "I will be safe."

"And the doctor?"

Hermione sighed, ready to be done with the conversation. "There's no need. There are charms I can do, and a potion I believe," she muttered. "It's supposed to be much more effective than Muggle medicine."

Somehow, Hermione's mother looked offended by the statement.

"Mum, I didn't mean . . . it's just . . ."

Helen nodded. "Different worlds, I know dear. Quite all right."

That had been days ago, and Hermione's father had been unable to talk to his daughter much about anything since. He'd asked her about her schoolwork of course, and what she might like to do come Christmas, but the slightest mention of Harry, or especially Ron, caused him to grow immediately silent on the subject, and then excuse himself from the room.

"Where's your car, Arthur?" Richard asked as he held open the door for the balding, red-headed wizard. Hermione could hear the conversation from the hallway upstairs as she pulled her trunk from her room, counting down the days until she could finally use magic outside of Hogwarts.

Mr. Weasley frowned. "No car today I'm afraid. A right shame too. I very much enjoy honking the horn at people to say hello," he said brightly. "No, I'll be Apparating Hermione back to the Burrow. Much faster and less dangerous."

"Apparating?" Richard questioned. "What exactly is that?"

Mr. Weasley paused to explain and then recalled a conversation he'd once had with Hermione's father in which the circumstances were reversed. "It's a bit hard to explain. Do you recall trying to teach me about your . . ." and he tried to remember the word, "pincher net?"

"Internet." Richard nodded slowly, catching the meaning very quickly. He'd remembered quite clearly introducing Arthur Weasley to his computer. He might as well have been speaking a different language entirely. Hermione's father quickly resigned to letting his daughter explain apparating another time. "Say no more, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley grinned. "Good."

"Is travelling by car much of a danger then?" Richard asked curiously.

"Not as such, no." Mr. Weasley shook his head, his ears going a bit pink. If his wife was here, she'd certainly say that cars were a danger when Mr. Weasley was behind the wheel of one. "But the drive back is long, and it's well . . . just less exposure and all," he said and left it at that.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said with a smile from the top of the stairs. "Congratulations on your promotion. Ginny owled me about it a few days ago."

Mr. Weasley smiled brightly. "Thank you, Hermione. It's not quite as exciting as sorting out possessed pocket watches and enchanted toasters, but I go where I'm needed I suppose. Here, let me give you a hand with that." Mr. Weasley flicked his wand. " _Locomotor_ trunk," he said, and Hermione's trunk lifted up and floated down the stairs, landing softly on the ground. "I'll just send this off for you." He reached for the trunk, wand in hand.

"Oh, wait!" Hermione said quickly. "Forgetting something." She turned around and heard a low growling meow. "Some _one_. Sorry, Crookshanks." She slipped the cat into his small carrier and set it on the top of the trunk and then watched Mr. Weasley vanish everything together.

"Waiting for you at the Burrow along with everyone. All very excited to see you. Lots happening." He grinned. "Oh yes, very exciting!"

Hermione smiled and then walked over, hugging her parents to her tightly. "I promise, I'll write you three times a week."

Richard kissed the top of her head. "Be safe."

"She'll be well looked after," Mr. Weasley promised.

* * *

 _CRACK!_

Hermione took in a large lungful of air and coughed it out quickly as they landed outside the Burrow. "So . . . Apparition," she spoke slowly. "I'd like to learn how that's done." It was certainly uncomfortable, but knowing that lessons for it were just in the short future, the idea of learning it became more and more appealing.

"Ron should be just inside." Mr. Weasley gestured. "If you'll excuse me, though, I've got an early morning meeting and need to be heading back to the Ministry." And with another loud CRACK he Disapparated.

Hermione walked the short distance to the Burrow, smiling brightly as she inhaled the scent of freshly mowed grass, though without a proper lawnmower, she couldn't help but wonder how the lawn around the Burrow was cut. She promised herself she'd ask Mrs. Weasley what charm was used to perform the chore. The sight of the house alone made her grin. It was one of her most favourite places in the world. An entire home bursting at the seams with magic. Not only that but some of her favourite people were just inside.

After a lingering hug goodbye at King's Cross Station only a few weeks ago, Hermione felt desperate to see Ron as though she'd already missed so much in the short period of time. She had a great deal to talk with him about, especially after reading the _Daily Prophet_ and what they were saying about Harry, the Department of Mysteries, the captured Death Eaters, and the prophecy. Not only that, she was hoping to see if he was doing much better health wise after the attack in the Brain Room. Hermione still had a large bruise over her rib cage from where Dolohov had cursed her though the potions Madam Pomfrey had sent home with her had taken the pain away completely.

Hermione knocked at the door. "Hello?"

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice came from behind the door, but it didn't open. "Is that you?"

Hermione laughed. "Yes."

"How do I know you're not a Death Eater?" Ginny asked. Hermione could tell there was a chuckle in the tone of her voice.

"Ginny . . ." Hermione groaned.

"You didn't read the security pamphlet?" Ginny asked her. "Hermione, I'm shocked! The Ministry of Magic has worked tirelessly to give us simple guidelines to protect our families and homes from the dark forces," she said sarcastically.

Hermione's voice grew louder. "Ginny, let me in."

"Number four," Ginny said and then cleared her throat. "Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion. Hermione," she spoke through the door, "if that is your real name, how do I know that you're _really_ Hermione Granger? Tell me your deepest, darkest secret." The littlest Weasley grinned on the other side of the closed door.

Hermione seethed. "My deepest secret is that I'm quite violent toward redheads."

"Oh, now we all know _that's_ not true. But you know what, even if you are a Death Eater dressed up in Hermione's face, I think I'll let you in. Because it would be much more interesting than what's going on in here." Ginny opened the door and smiled cheerfully at Hermione. "Welcome," she said with wide eyes, "to my nightmare."

Hermione scowled at Ginny as she entered the Burrow. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm so glad you're here," Ginny said, hugging Hermione's side. "You've no idea how bad it's been. It's been twenty-four hours, Hermione. I'm going to snap if it doesn't end soon."

"If _what_ doesn't end soon?" Hermione rose a brow, suddenly growing worried. What could have happened to the Weasley's that Mr. Weasley hadn't told her about? He seemed positively cheerful when he'd left her.

Ginny fake sobbed into Hermione's shoulder. "We've been infiltrated."

"What are you talking abou—" Hermione let out a slight gasp.

"'Ermione?" came a french accent from the doorway of the kitchen and Fleur Delacour entered with a sweet smile. "'Ow lovely, leetle Ginny has someone to play wiz now." Fleur's smile was genuine, which only made Hermione's eyes widen. She heard Ginny quietly growl into her shoulder.

"It's nice to see you Fleur," Hermione said and closed the door behind her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, turning her attention to Ginny who seemed on the verge of a temperamental breakdown.

"Oh, I waz just planning to make breakfast for everyone." Fleur smiled and slipped on a frilly apron that looked nothing like the ones Mrs. Weasley usually wore.

"No, I mean, here at the Burrow," Hermione clarified.

"Oh, Bill has brought me to spend time wiz his dear family. Bill and are I going to be married!" She beamed brightly.

Suddenly the back door opened again and a very tall redhead burst through the door with a basket in his hands. Hermione blinked as she was nearly shoved out of the way. "Ron?" Her eyes widened as she watched him rush over to Fleur's side.

"I've brought you eggs!" he said with such pride and victory in his voice he might as well have been holding the Quidditch Cup he'd won last year. "Are these enough? 'Cause I could go back out."

"No, no, you've done quite enough." Fleur smiled at him and he flushed. "Go and relax now, I'll take care of everything in here."

Ron turned around, a stupid, happy look on his face and he blinked a few times and smiled brightly. "Hey, Hermione!"

Hermione was fuming. She inhaled deeply and crossed her arms over her chest before storming off past him, giving him a good shove first as she made her way through the kitchen and came out the other side before stomping up the stairs in search of her trunk and Crookshanks.

"Hey!" Ron burst into Ginny's room right behind Hermione who'd moved to sit on her trunk and release Crookshanks from his carrier. "What was that about?"

"Seriously, Ronald?" Hermione glared at him. "You nearly knocked me over in there on your desperate way to bow at Fleur's feet." It was disgusting; she felt embarrassed for him.

Ron made a face. "I was just being nice. She's marrying Bill you know. Part of the family now and all." He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

"And your brother lets you gawk at her like that?" she asked, pulling Crookshanks onto her lap who immediately turned and hissed at Ron.

"Yeah, you too." Ron scowled at the cat and then turned his attention back to Hermione. "Like what? Like . . . oh." He flushed and looked down. "Well, you know I can't control it," he said with a frown, clearly embarrassed. "And yeah, he said it's okay. He knows it's not under my control."

She scoffed. "And the other men in this house?"

"Well Charlie and Percy don't live here, George and Fred moved out and they haven't come by yet to see her. There's just me and Dad and, well, even if Fleur _wasn't_ young enough to be his daughter . . . he's got Mum."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, so it's just men who're _available_ and _interested_ that fall for her . . . nonsense? It's embarrassing," she muttered bitterly.

"Yeah, well, she's stuck here until Bill takes her away. And _I'm_ stuck here with the lot of you," he snapped at her. "It's been great fun having Mum and Ginny all mental and angry, now I've got to deal with you, too?!"

Hermione glowered at him. "You don't have to _deal_ with anything, Ronald. Sorry to bother you. I'll just spend the rest of the summer with Ginny and Harry, and you can go and fetch more eggs for your brother's fiancé!"

" _This_!" Ron yelled, almost directly in her face. "Is officially the dumbest row we've ever had!"

"I agree!" Hermione shouted back.

The two stood for a moment, breathing heavily and glaring at one another.

"Just snog already and get it over with," Fred's called from behind Ron in the hallway.

Both Ron and Hermione snapped out of it, their faces blushing at the suggestion. Ron turned around quickly and glared at his brother. "Oi, where'd you come from? Mum's been waiting for you and George to come over and help deal with Bill's . . . Fleur," he muttered quietly, glancing down the stairs to make sure Fleur wasn't coming up.

"Ickle Ronnie having trouble keeping his eyes off of future sis?" Fred smirked. "Awkward. Glad we don't live here anymore. I hate to think what I might walk in on."

Ron narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why do you _think_ we haven't been here?" George appeared from behind Fred. "We've got a business to run little brother. No time for nonsense like girls."

"Girls we're not allowed to have a bit of nonsense with, at least." Fred winked at Ron.

George gestured to a large cardboard box in his hand. "We're just stopping by to pick up a few things. And if you know what's good for you . . ."

"Don't look in our closet," Fred finished before the two of them rushed down the stairs quietly, slipped silently out the door and then once outside the wards, they vanished with two loud CRACKS.

Ron shook his head. "Can you believe those two?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a small chuckle.

"So . . . not mad at me anymore?" he asked with a crooked grin.

"No," she admitted in mild frustration. "I suppose there's not much you can do about her."

"I can try actually." Ron stuck his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit. "Takes some effort is all, but she caught me this morning by surprise," he admitted. "I woke up and ran into her in front of the bathroom. I was barely awake."

"Well, I'll see what I can do about keeping an eye out for you." Hermione smiled at him in a forgiving way, even though there was nothing for her to forgive. Ron owed her no explanation. Bill maybe, but not her. She wasn't even entirely certain why she was so upset.

"Do you want to unpack? Or . . ." he paused. "I umm . . . it's a nice day out. We could go for a swim in the pond?" he suggested and then quickly broke eye contact.

"That actually sounds nice. I think I packed a suit," she replied, flipping open her trunk and digging through it for a few moments until she realised that Ron was peaking over her shoulder expectantly.

"I'll be right down. Just need to get changed."

"Okay, yeah umm . . . see you downstairs then," he muttered quickly before bolting out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

 **July 1996**

"Mum please . . ." Ron whinged, his face red with embarrassment.

Mrs. Weasley stood behind Ron, who hunched in the kitchen of the Burrow while she applied suncream to his back as though he were a four-year-old. "You were the one who insisted on not putting anything on last time and you got all burned up."

"Can you at least be quick about it?" he snapped at her, hoping that Hermione didn't come down to see him being tended to like a bloody toddler. "Ow!" He winced as his mother flicked the back of his ear hard with her finger.

"Watch your tone young man or I'll have you scrubbing walls. Hermione and Ginny can go swimming by themselves," she threatened. "And you behave yourself out there." She remembered what Bill and Charlie were like at Ron's age. It may be just Hermione, but Mrs. Weasley was pleased to know that Ginny was going to the pond with them—just in case.

"All set?" Hermione called from the stairs as she descended into the kitchen.

Ron leapt away from his mother grasp, turning his back away from them both. He smiled awkwardly at Hermione, who stood before him in a pair of denim shorts and an oversized t-shirt. He suddenly felt very underdressed and crossed his arms over his bare, pale chest nervously. "You didn't have a suit?" he asked, feeling incredibly disappointed. "I'm sure Ginny could let you borrow one. She just went shopping in fact," Ron said and eyed his mother a bit, still in a huff over her casual way of dealing with Ginny's choice in swimwear.

"Oh no, I'm wearing it under this," Hermione said, gesturing to her outfit. "I didn't feel like prancing around in it around the house."

"C'mon, before the weather changes!" Ginny screamed as she sprinted out of the house, a large towel draped over her shoulder.

"You three have fun, and behave," Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing Ron. "Lunch will be ready in a few hours."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Are you sure you don't need help with anything?"

"Not at all, dear. Go and enjoy your summer!" she insisted, shooing Ron and Hermione out of the kitchen.

"It's really not that great for swimming," Ron admitted as he walked side by side with Hermione toward the pond. "I can't even jump in now cause I'm too tall. Mum says I'll knock my head into the bottom and get it stuck in the mud." He chuckled as Hermione smiled at him.

"I'm sure it's just fine. I'm just looking forward to something relaxing," she admitted. "Mum and Dad have been rushing me about ever since I got home. So much to do in so little time. I'm sure if they knew I was here lounging around, sunbathing, they'd insist that they could have taken me on holiday somewhere to do the same thing, plus take in the sights," she said with a laugh.

"Did you _want_ to do that?" Ron asked her.

Hermione shrugged. "I enjoy travelling. Or well, _they_ do at least, and I enjoy being with them. But . . ." she hesitated, "I'm where I want to be."

Ron beamed.

Hermione smiled as they approached the pond that was surrounded by the large orchard. "Oh, this is lovely."

Ginny was already in the water, pretending to drown in the middle of the pond. She surfaced for a moment, put a hand to her head. "Oh no, it waz zee grindylows," Ginny wailed in a fake French accent, making fun of Fleur's failure at the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. "'Arry Potter, my 'ero!" And then she blanched and pretended to drown again. Ron and Hermione both laughed at the display.

Ron turned his attention to Hermione as she began to undress. Slipping the sandals off of her small feet and then unbuttoning her denim shorts. He didn't even realise he was staring until he felt the breath go out of him as her shorts descended to the ground, the cloth raking itself over Hermione's long, tan legs. Suddenly, he remembered that he'd never seen her thighs before, and he swallowed hard, looking at the black bathing suit bottom that hugged her curves. He blinked rapidly and finally pulled his eyes away from her.

"Oh," Hermione muttered and Ron turned around to face her, finding that she'd moved exceptionally close to him. "You've got umm . . ." She reached her hand up where a blob of suncream was still visible on his shoulder. "You missed a spot. Here." She placed her hand on his skin and began rubbing it into his flesh, which burned at her touch.

"Th-thanks," Ron mumbled. The need to get in the water as soon as possible was becoming dire. The water would be cold. He needed it to be very cold.

"Do you need me to . . ." He gestured to her shoulders that were still covered by the oversized t-shirt.

"Oh, umm . . . no." She shook her head. "Shoulders will be fine since I'm wearing this," she said and tugged at the fabric and a part of Ron was devastated.

He raised a brow. "You swim in a shirt?"

"Yes," she admitted hesitantly. "It's fine. The weather doesn't look like we'll be swimming very long." She looked up at the sky that was slowly beginning to overcast.

Once in the water, Ron sighed as the cold temperature calmed him down almost immediately, albeit slightly painful. Hermione was right, it was relaxing. That was until Ginny picked a water fight that ended with both Weasleys nearly drowning each other in the process. Hermione got out of the pond entirely to avoid being splashed with mud, which Ginny was now throwing in large clumps at Ron.

"You're such a brat!" Ron yelled at her and stormed up to the bank, pulling himself onto the grass where he looked up at Hermione standing there with her wet shirt hugging her body, dripping wet. Her hair was clinging to her skin just as it had in Ron's dream. "Sorry, you can come back," he pleaded. "We'll be good."

"Speak for yourself!" Ginny yelled from behind him.

"It's all right," Hermione said, laughing softly. "Looks like clouds are coming in. We should all get out actually."

Ron grumbled audibly but stood and reached for his towel that was hung over the branch of a nearby beech tree. He snatched up Hermione's and brought it over, leaving Ginny's on the ground where she could get it her damned self. He towelled his face first and when he opened his eyes he saw Hermione reach for the hem of her t-shirt, not to pull it off—to his disappointment—but to wring the water out of it. She pulled the fabric into a tight knot on the side and twisted it, water pouring from the cloth onto the grass at their feet. As the fabric pulled upward revealing skin, Ron's breath hitched. His mum was right. All the girls were wearing swimsuits like Ginny's' these days, and Hermione had not been the exception. For a split second, he was able to enjoy the brief glimpse of skin with a mild victorious feeling washing over him, but then something caught his attention, and he dropped both towels on the ground.

"Hermione," he said in a worried tone as he reached for the shirt and lifted it upwards in a quick motion.

"Ronald!" Hermione yelled, tugging against him as if he were trying to merely undress her. But the damage was already done. Ron held up the fabric of her shirt, revealing the large blue and purple bruise that covered the entire side of her ribcage, disappearing beneath the top of her swimsuit and spreading out like veins against her back and stomach.

"What is that?" He gasped. "Are you okay?"

Humiliated, Hermione stood there with her hands over her face. "I'm fine! It's just from the Department of Mysteries."

"Still? Does it . . . does it hurt?" he asked her, gently touching it, unable to stop himself.

"No," she muttered and watched him. When his fingers grazed her skin, she whimpered softly and then, realising she'd done so aloud, she pulled away from him quickly, tugging her shirt back down embarrassed. "It doesn't hurt, I promise. Madam Pomfrey said I'm fine, it'll just take a while to go away."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he told her firmly. "You fought bravely and were attacked. And at least it's not permanent," he said, referencing the deep burn-like scars on his forearms. "At least your mark shows you did something worthwhile."

"What are you talking about?" She scowled at him, reaching a hand over and gripping his forearm to run her fingers along his scars. "These are proof of how brave you are."

"These are proof of what a _git_ I am," Ron corrected her. "I got knocked funny in the head and summoned a bloody brain that almost killed me."

"You didn't confund _yourself_." Hermione scoffed at him. "You were protecting Ginny and Luna, fighting Death Eaters. These are proof of how willing you've always been to look out for others."

"You really think I'm brave?" Ron whispered, his eyes full of longing for the words.

She grinned. "I've always thought you were brave. You're a Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Guess so." He shrugged nervously, noticing that her fingers were still trailing the scars on his arms, and suddenly he felt warm all over again, despite the oncoming storm. "You've got umm . . ." He swallowed hard and reached his hand forward, pulling a small leaf out of her hair.

She blushed. "Oh. Yeah, this mess always catches things," she said, referencing her bushy hair that now had wet curls bouncing anytime she moved.

"I think it's nice." Ron smiled and unable to stop himself, or maybe because she'd called him brave, he reached back and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Hermione's mouth parted, surprised at the very intimate gesture, and Ron licked his lips in response. He felt a strange tug inside of his chest and a desperate need to get closer to her, to touch more of her.

"Swimming in this weather?" a voice interrupted them. Ron practically fell backwards away from Hermione in surprise.

"I told your seester it would be silly to swim today," Fleur spoke, her arm wrapped tightly around Bill, who pried her off of him for a split second as he offered a hand to Ron on the ground. Ginny stepped out of the pond, picked her towel up off of the grass. "It doesn't look very . . ." Fleur searched for words as she stared into the dark, murky looking pond, "hygienic."

"No, but at least it doesn't have Grindylows," Ginny muttered and then headed quickly across the grass and back toward the house.

Fleur made a scoffing noise and turned to look at Bill as if he should have done something to defend her honour. Bill smiled at her kindly and shrugged his shoulders that only seemed to mildly enrage his fiancee who then turned her back, her long silvery blond hair flipping in the wind as she stormed away. Bill's eyes seemed to linger on her figure as it bounced with every step, a stupid grin on his face.

"You should go after her," Ron commented, his eyes unable to break away from Fleur as she moved. "She needs _someone_ to go after her." He nodded firmly. "Maybe I could talk to her for you, Bill."

Hermione made a noise that sounded something like a growl and without a word, she followed off after Fleur, her bouncy brown hair moving in the wind, though not as gracefully as Fleur's. The very second that Fleur was out of Ron's vision, he blinked and looked around as if he'd just been woken from a nap.

"Where'd Hermione go?" he asked, confused.

Bill shook his head and patted Ron on the back. "Oh, poor little brother. We're going to have to do something about this before you end up getting hurt."

Ron frowned. "Hermione hits me all the time."

"Oh, I'm not talking about _her_ ," Bill said with a smile. "I know Fleur's part veela, and you can't exactly control it, but sooner or later the novelty is going to wear off. When it does, I might end up knocking you on your arse if you don't keep your eyes off her."

"How do you deal with it?" Ron asked, looking up at his brother, just a bit intimidated. Bill had been the only brother to never torment Ron. Even Charlie had a go once in awhile when he'd come to visit. It seemed that Ron's new height had lifted whatever pardon was given to him as a small child and now his dragon taming brother felt Ron was fair game. "How do you turn it off?"

"I don't." Bill smiled brightly. "I just sit back and enjoy the view. But _I'm_ going to marry her, which means I don't have to turn it off. I'm the lousy git that lucked into being able to enjoy every second. Other men, brothers included, are going to get hit eventually."

* * *

The following morning, Hermione woke to see that the camp bed beside hers was well slept in. However, the bed—where Fleur was _supposed_ to be sleeping—looked as though it hadn't been touched all night. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Certainly Fleur and Bill were engaged, and he was well into his twenties, but under the same roof as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? It seemed disrespectful. Although Hermione couldn't really fault Bill for it, she felt perfectly justified in still being angry with Ron over his constant display of idiocy toward Fleur.

At the pond before Bill and his veela had arrived, Hermione had been so certain that they'd shared something. They'd touched one another. He'd touched her ribs where a Dark wizard had marked her, and somehow at the feel of his hands against her skin, she felt marked by something else. She tried to reason everything biologically. Her mother had given her plenty of books early into her teens. As Hermione spent so much time away from her parents, books were needed to help guide her through her very formative years. Biologically whatever attraction she felt toward Ron made sense. They'd both grown over the last few years, and were nearly adults. Hermione would be of age in less than a month. They weren't awkward little children anymore. She wasn't a little girl any longer; she was a woman. And he wasn't a little boy, he was a . . .

"Man," Hermione muttered under her breath as she stood outside the open bathroom door. Ron was standing in front of the small mirror, cream on his face and razor in his hand. When had he started shaving? Her lips parted as she watched him silently. Freshly showered, his ginger hair was still damp. He must have barely towelled off too, as water seemed to stain through the t-shirt he was wearing that clung tightly to his torso. She knew it had to do more with the fact that all of his clothes were handed down or bought cheap, and less about the build of his body. But regardless the reason for it, she couldn't help but stare eagerly.

 _Hormones. It's simple biology,_ she told herself as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She'd look at _any_ man that way, especially considering they'd known each other for so long. She'd probably look at Harry the same way. Hermione's mind drifted to the thought, and suddenly she blanched and audibly muttered, "Ick."

Ron turned and looked at her. "Oh, did you need the room?" he asked, taking a ratty hand towel and rubbing the rest of the shaving cream from his face. "I'm done."

"Oh, good," someone else said, and Hermione bristled.

As Fleur appeared, Ron jumped slightly at her sudden arrival and not realising he was still holding his razor, sliced his index finger and winced.

"Ron, are you okay?" Fleur asked him, noticing the brief look of pain on his face.

"Yeah," he nodded quickly, "grand. H-how are you?"

"Ugh," Hermione growled and turned away. "I'm going downstairs."

"Breakfast is almost ready," Fleur called after Hermione, but she didn't stop to acknowledge that she'd heard anything.

"Smells wonderful Mrs. Weasley." Hermione forced a bright smile when she walked into the kitchen. "Oh, do you have any essence of dittany?" she asked. "Ron's cut open his finger."

"What?" Mrs. Weasley rose a brow. "Is he all right?"

"He'll survive," she grumbled as she looked up at a noise and caught sight of a large white owl flying around outside the window, hovering above the field looking for mice. "Is Harry here?" Hermione looked up at Mrs. Weasley.

Ron came walking into the kitchen, his bleeding finger stuck in his mouth. "Harry?"

"Here, Ronald." Mrs. Weasley yanked his hand out of his mouth and applied something onto his cut from a small brown bottle that she'd pulled out of a nearby cupboard. "Harry's upstairs in Fred and George's room sleeping. Go and wake him and let him know I'll bring breakfast up. He's had a long couple of weeks," she said with a frown. "Poor boy's been starved to death again."

Hermione and Ron rushed up the stairs together, eager to see their best friend and find out for themselves if what the _Daily Prophet_ had been writing was true. Was Harry the Chosen One? Ron practically kicked open the door, and Hermione turned to open the curtains so they could see properly.

 _"Wuzzgoinon?"_

 _"We didn't know you were here already!" Ron shouted excitedly, smacking Harry on the top of his head._

 _"Ron, don't hit him!" Hermione said reproachfully._

 _"All right?"_

 _"Never been better," said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back onto his pillows. "You?"_

 _"Not bad," said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it. "When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"_

 _"About one o'clock this morning."_

 _"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?"_

 _"Same as usual," said Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"_

 _"Oh, I'm fine,"_ she said, looking him over for any sign of problems. He'd been through so much, and Mrs. Weasley was right, he did look thinner than normal. She tried looking into his eyes, however, hoping to see some spot of his emotions. He hadn't mentioned Sirius much after everything had happened, and it had been weeks now. Harry needed to talk to someone about his feelings.

 _"What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?"_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

 **September 1996**

 _"'One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens'. You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"_

 _"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "you can have one for free."_

They'd left Diagon Alley with new school supplies, robes, and treats in hand and spent the next week packing their trunks and listening to Harry go on and on, trying to convince them that he was certain Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Hermione knew that Draco was up to something, but a Death Eater? He was horrible, but was he truly _evil_?

Time seemed to blur as everyone boarded the Hogwarts Express. Hermione and Ron made their way to the prefect carriage, thrilled to find Malfoy silent during the rather quick meeting. Hermione was grateful that the new Head Boy and Girl (from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively) spent the time going over new security measures and rules, skipping the fact that the prefect's bathroom was often used for snogging. Hermione still remembered how embarrassing it was that she'd issued detention to the previous Head Boy and Girl when she'd caught them during her O.W.L.s week.

 _"What did he do when he saw you?"_ Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they returned to the compartment and sat down.

 _"The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well... that is"-he did the hand gesture again-"but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"_

 _"Dunno," said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying younger students?_

 _"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," said Hermione. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."_

 _"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think he's-"_

 _But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside._

 _"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment._

 _"What is it?" Ron demanded._

 _"An invitation," said Harry._

 _Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment , Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_

 _"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looked perplexedly at his own invitation._

 _"New teacher," said Harry. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"_

 _"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention._

 _"No idea," said Harry, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct. "Listen," he added, seized by a sudden brainwave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."_

"Just me or is he getting really paranoid?" Ron asked Hermione.

Hermione sighed sadly. "He has every right to be, I suppose. I think it's grief over Sirius. Harry blames himself, and now instead of dealing with his loss, he's overworking himself trying to prevent anything else from happening. He can't go after Voldemort—" she rolled her eyes when she saw Ron flinch at the name, "—himself because he doesn't know how or where to start, so he's taking his energy out on Malfoy because Malfoy's right here and will be for the rest of the school year."

Ron stood up. "I'm going to see where the food trolley is."

"I think I'll go with you," said Luna with a serene smile. "I was wanting to look for Ginny too. I wanted to tell her about the trip I took with my dad to try and find the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Hermione smiled but was unable to prevent herself from rolling her eyes.

* * *

Alone in the compartment and with a long journey ahead of her, Hermione stood up and reached for the luggage rack to search for something to read. She had more classes than the others this year and with so many advanced subjects, she was worried she wouldn't have time to get a proper head start. Reaching into her trunk, she snatched up what felt like her book bag but frowned as the large Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes logo greeted her. She rolled her eyes, moving to put the bag back in her trunk before pausing and looking around to make certain no one was coming back down the corridor. Quietly, she slipped out the small box of Daydream Charms that Fred and George had gifted her. She thought it was ridiculous at the time, but didn't want to seem rude by not accepting it.

Hesitating for only a second, Hermione tore one out of the package and, after examining it for a few moments, stuck the candy-looking object in her mouth. She waited briefly and when nothing happened, let out a soft—and partially relieved—sigh and stuck the bag back into her trunk, reaching again for a book before returning to her seat and kicking her feet up.

"Got some Fizzing Whizzbees," Ron muttered as he walked into the compartment, closing the door shut behind him. He held out his hand to her. "Want some?"

Hermione shook her head silently as she opened her book.

Ron leaned over and lifted her legs, which caused her to stare at him incredulously before he sat down, placing her feet into his lap.

"I refuse your candy so now you want to share my seat?" she asked him with a raised eyebrow.

"I was sitting here before I got up," he argued.

"There's a whole other side of the compartment," she said and gestured to where Luna and Neville had been sitting before they left. Was this just his way of bothering her because there was no one else to be entertained by?

"Yeah well," he said with a blush, "I like sitting next to you."

Hermione felt her face flush a little. "Oh," she mumbled. "I umm . . . I guess I will have a few Fizzing Whizzbees." She reached her hand out to him. "Thank you."

"Here," he opened the package and spilled a few into one hand, picking up one individual candy with two fingers, "open your mouth."

"No."

"C'mon," Ron whinged. "I may not be a Chaser, but I swear I won't miss."

"We're almost seventeen, Ronald. We're practically adults."

"Exactly. One last chance to be an immature child." He grinned at her and Hermione melted at his smile. Relenting, she hesitantly opened her mouth. Ron smirked and closed one eye to take aim before launching a Fizzing Whizzbee into her open mouth. Both laughed as she closed her jaws around it.

"Your turn." He reached over, setting a piece of candy into her hand. Hermione shook her head as if the activity were still too ridiculous for her, but she aimed and threw a piece at Ron that missed his open mouth completely and bounced off the back of the compartment wall instead. Before it hit the ground, his hand darted out and caught the candy and he tossed it into his mouth with a laugh. "You're terrible," Ron said with a smirk and then gestured. "Open up."

Hermione opened her mouth again and Ron took aim once more, but the candy missed and landed somewhere on the seat beneath her. "Oops," she muttered quietly and turned to find it, not wanting to litter the entire train with loose candy and garbage.

"It's right there." He pointed as Hermione turned her body to search.

She blinked, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she tilted her head forward. "I don't see it."

"Here, let me," Ron said in mild frustration as he pushed her feet off of his lap and leaned forward, reaching over her waist with his long arm and snatching up the piece of candy that had been sitting right beside her the whole time.

Hermione looked up to thank him and found him sitting right up against her, his face so close to hers that she could see the variations of blue in his eyes. "Umm . . thanks," she mumbled and Ron smiled at her.

"Open," he insisted, his voice suddenly low and soft. Hermione blushed but followed his instructions.

Instead of throwing it at her from across their shared seat, Ron tenderly placed the piece of candy into her mouth, letting his thumb drag against her lower lip. Her breath caught in her throat and something new tugged down inside of her core as she watched him lick his lips.

"Tastes good, yeah?" he asked her with a grin.

"Very," Hermione mumbled almost incoherently and then closed her mouth, nearly swallowing the candy whole, letting the feeling of it bubble down her throat.

He reached over, putting another piece of candy into her open palm and then likewise, opened his mouth which was mere inches away from her. "Your turn."

Taking in a few quick breaths, Hermione slowly brought her hand up, letting her fingers brush up against his soft lips and placing the candy inside his mouth. Before she had a chance to pull them away though, Ron closed his mouth and turned his head, pushing his lips against her thumb in a tender kiss. Hermione mewled, loud enough for Ron to hear, which he did and grinned deviously in response.

Ron sat up quickly, and she jumped, assuming he was coming to his senses. She almost made to apologise, but she watched as he stood and pulled down the shutters to cover the windows in the compartment.

"Ron?" she questioned as he reached for his wand.

" _Colloportus_ ," he spoke, waving his wand at the door which sealed itself with an odd squelching noise, locking shut.

Hermione gasped at his use of magic, but before she could say another word he was back at her side, sitting so close to her she could feel the warmth of his skin radiating off of him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Something I should have done back at the Burrow, back at the pond before Phlem showed up," he said, using Fleur's unfortunate nickname for the first time. "When I did this," he reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "I should have also done this . . ." he whispered and leaned extremely close to her.

Hermione trembled as he grew closer and closer. She could feel his breath on her face, it smelled like sugar. But not just sugar. There was a clean scent, like a faint trace of tea tree oil. She reached out a hand and brushed ginger wisps away from his forehead. Hermione let out a small whimper as one of his hands moved to cup her cheek, the other reaching over and gently touching the curve of her waist. That same new tugging sensation in her core pulled down again and a cold shiver moved like water up her spine. Her stomach clenched tightly in anticipation that just continued to build and build, threatening to never release as his lips drew closer to hers and she closed her eyes.

"Hermione..." Ron whispered.

"Ron," she moaned back.

"Hermione? Oi!" Ron yelled and Hermione jumped at the sudden volume. She blinked rapidly wondering how he'd gone from sitting right in front of her, his hand on her cheek to standing at the open door of the compartment. "You okay? No offense but you looked like someone confunded you a bit." He stepped into the compartment and sat across the way from her where Neville and Luna had been sitting before they'd left.

Hermione blushed. "I must have fallen asleep." She made a mental note to throw away the Daydream Charms the second they got off the train. Half a minute longer and she could have made a right fool of herself.

"I got some Fizzing Whizzbees," Ron said and smiled brightly, "want some?" He held the open box out to her.

She stared at the box of candy in front of her as he held his palm outward. Her eyes widened at the sight for a few seconds and then she shook her head quickly. "No thanks." Hermione swallowed hard and opened her book quickly.

Eventually, Hermione and Ron both fell asleep and when the doors reopened, Neville walked in alone. Hermione woke slowly, rubbing her blurry eyes and reaching for the book that had fallen on the floor. She glanced across the compartment where Ron was now covered in Fizzing Whizzbees that had fallen out of the box, which was now laying on the floor nestled in a small pile of other sweet wrappers. "What time is it, Neville?" she asked.

"We should be getting to Hogsmeade soon," he answered.

Hermione turned and looked out into the darkened sky. "Ron," she called out. "Ron, wake up. We've got to get our robes on and get ready. Wait, where's Harry?" She blinked at the empty spaces in the compartment. "Neville?"

He looked embarrassed and nervous all at once. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "He said he'd see us later and then when I looked back, he was gone."

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "I'll bet ten Galleons this has something to do with Malfoy."

* * *

Harry eventually reunited with them in the Great Hall wearing Muggle clothes with dried blood on his face. It was a great start to the new school year so far, especially since everyone was looking at them constantly, muttering 'Chosen One' under their breath as Harry passed by. Hermione spent the whole night ushering away younger girls who stopped to stare at Harry.

Unfortunately, it was the _older_ girls who stopped and stared at Ron that caused Hermione's blood to boil under her skin. She hadn't been in bed for more than five minutes before Lavender and Parvati began ranking the sixth year boys by levels of attraction. Harry was first simply because of who he was. Though each of her roommates agreed that he wasn't the best looking boy, that title had apparently fallen onto Ron's shoulders. Hermione bristled at the conversation.

"He's so tall," Lavender giggled. "The hair is a little unfortunate, but I think he makes up for it in other ways."

Hermione slammed her book shut and quickly drew the curtains around her four poster. Her mood didn't improve the following morning when Lavender made a public display of attention, giggling at Ron like an idiot. No matter how ornery she was about the other girls, she had too much to focus on when it came to classes, so Ron, Harry and their new fans would have to be put on the back-burner until it became necessary for her to intervene.

* * *

By the time they'd all arrived at the dungeon for their first Potions class, Hermione had reached a new level of irritability. The amount of homework they'd been given already was surprising, even for her. It didn't help that anytime the trio turned a corner someone was questioning them about the Department of Mysteries, or bothering Harry about Quidditch trials. Worst of all was Harry landing in detention with Snape, something Ron actually congratulated him for. If she didn't have decent control of her temper, she would have yelled her voice raw in an attempt to scold the both of them.

After Harry and Ron retrieved their borrowed books and cauldrons and sat down next to her, Professor Slughorn dove right into the lesson, which gave Hermione great relief as she stared at the four steaming cauldrons in front of the class. She had hoped that perhaps without Snape as a teacher, questions would be permitted and she could learn to improve her already excellent potion making skills. Her eyes narrowed at Harry and Ron who continued whispering. If anyone needed help with potions, it was those two.

 _"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"_

 _Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her._

 _"It's Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione._

 _"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can-?"_

 _Hermione's hand was fastest once more._

 _"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said._

 _"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one her... yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again._

 _"It's Amortentia!"_

 _"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"_

 _"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione._

She beamed as Professor Slughorn complimented her; Professor Snape's only feedback had always been so dripping in sarcasm, he'd turned praise into snide insults. Somehow, it felt like being right back at home again and she felt her confidence rise.

 _"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"_

 _"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-"_

Ron's hair.

 _But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence._

She could make no mistake about it. The third smell wafting out of the cauldron was that same clean faint trace of tea tree oil that she knew was found in Ron's shampoo at the Burrow. She'd known of course because anytime she'd gone in to shower, she had to clean up a mess of it off of the floor as he never seemed to remember to close the top. Hermione's skin flushed as she breathed in the scents of the potion.

Freshly mowed grass. Running toward the Burrow, surrounded by hedges, fields and orchards. Sunlight reflecting off of the pond out back where Ron reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The sun reflecting off of his bare, wet chest as beads of water dripped from his shaggy ginger hair.

Parchment. But not just any parchment. The smallest hint of fire and ink. Nights spent in the common room, writing out essays. Her inked stained fingers looking over Ron's scratchy handwriting, while he leaned over her shoulder, unknowingly breathing on her neck as he watched her check his work with a grateful smile on his face.

And tea tree oil. The smell of his hair. She could smell it when he'd hugged her last Christmas after his father had been attacked. When he'd held her so close because he needed her comfort. She could smell it on his hair when she leaned her head on his shoulder last year during O.W.L.s when he'd found her crying outside the prefect bathroom.

"That's mental," Ron muttered under his breath as Professor Slughorn went on to explain the effects of Amorentia. "That doesn't smell like either of those things," he added quietly. "I don't think he brewed it right."

"Are you serious?" Hermione stared at him. "He's a Potions Master, of course he brewed it correctly."

"Well, then he mucked it up. Stuff smells like the bloody library to me," he said, nose twitching.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

 **September 1996**

 _"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione._

 _"Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"_

 _"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-"_

 _But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence._

"That's mental," Ron muttered under his breath as Professor Slughorn went on to explain the effects of Amortentia. "That doesn't smell like either of those things," he added quietly. "I don't think he brewed it right."

"Are you serious?" Hermione stared at him. "He's a Potions Master, of course he brewed it correctly."

"Well, then he mucked it up. Stuff smells like the bloody library to me." His nose twitched.

Library books. That musty smell of leather mixed with dust. Ron had smelled enough of the library to know it immediately. It was the only place to ever find Hermione when she'd go missing. Ron suspected that over the years he'd spent more time in that library with her revising or researching than he'd ever spent on the Quidditch pitch. He knew the smell very well.

He smelled other things, too, of course. Although, it took a few minutes to catch the hints of it. Lavender. Not the daft girl that had been giggling at him that morning, but the purple flowers. He'd only known they were purple because there was a picture of them on the outside of Hermione's bottle of lotion that she'd left in the bathroom at the Burrow one morning after showering. Ron had gone in right after her, having slept late, to find the whole room filled with the scent. He'd practically choked on it at first, but after a while it started growing on him.

The last smell was easy to place. Porridge. It was one of the reasons Ron was certain that Professor Slughorn had brewed it wrong. If it really _was_ a Love Potion, Ron would be sure to smell cookies, cauldron cakes, pudding, bacon, and sausages. Not porridge. _Hermione_ ate porridge, not him.

Ron sat in his seat, resting his chin on his palm as he watched Hermione show off even more, and Professor Slughorn ate it all up. It would annoy Ron if she didn't smile brightly every time he lavished her with praise.

 _"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"_

 _"Yes, sir," said Harry._

 _"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially._

 _Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"_

 _"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year-I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"_

 _Hermione smiled but made a "shushing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled._

His eyes turned and glared at Harry.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry whispered.

Ron scowled. "Nothing. You tell Professor how bloody brilliant _I_ am too?" he asked mockingly, and Harry almost laughed in response. Ron smirked at him, holding back the slightly offended way he was feeling. He didn't know whether or not he was more upset by feeling left out, or over the fact that for some reason while Harry was supposed to have been talking Slughorn into coming to Hogwarts, he'd ended up talking about Hermione instead.

Despite Harry needing to go see Dumbledore that night, Ron had little time alone with Hermione. She insisted on silence while she went over her homework and because she had more classes than Ron did, she spared little of her time to help him with his essays. Especially since he'd spent the night playing chess with Seamus, leaving his homework until the last minute.

"I'm not going to help you just because you've procrastinated all night," she'd snapped at him.

He of course didn't want to mention that the only reason he'd left it til the last moment was because he _wanted_ her help with it, if only to get a few minutes to talk in private. The few days they'd had alone at the Burrow over the summer had been nice, but with Harry showing up, everything suddenly became about him being the 'Chosen One', and figuring out what You-Know-Who was up to. Now that they were back at Hogwarts, Ron had taken a backseat to homework.

The next morning proved just how much Ron still lived in Harry's shadow as they sat down to breakfast, discussing when would be a good time to go and visit Hagrid.

 _"We'll go down after Quidditch," Harry assured Hermione. "But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied. I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."_

 _"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."_

 _Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper._

 _"Fanciable?!" He bristled._ He looked over at his best friend who still had his hair sticking up in the back of his head despite running his hand through it multiple times to get it to lay flat. Harry Potter, who was skinny and short. Specky git.

 _Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry._

 _"Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One'-well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you? And you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway..."_

 _"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Ron, shaking back his sleeves_. She'd touched those scars that summer and he remembered how her fingers sent chills up his spine. She'd called him brave.

 _"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finished, ignoring Ron._

 _"I'm tall," said Ron inconsequentially._

Taller than _Harry_.

"Hi, Ron," Lavender Brown said as she walked by the table with Pavarti, both of them grinning and giggling. Upset by the fact that Hermione wasn't acknowledging his existence, Ron gave a nod to the passing girls who continued to stare.

After breakfast, they stood and headed down to the Quidditch pitch. Lavender and Parvati were huddled together at the end of the table whispering. Catching sight of the trio, Pavarti nudged Lavender, who looked up and smiled widely at Ron.

He blinked a few times, turning once to see if she'd been meaning to smile at Harry. When it was clear she was looking at him, Ron gave her an uncertain smile back, and she giggled in response. A bit of confidence coursed through him immediately and he straightened up. He glanced over at Hermione, hoping she'd caught on that _someone_ had noticed him, however, she only seemed cold and distant as though someone had said something to greatly offend her when he wasn't looking.

Once they'd gotten to the pitch, Ron put on his gear, ready for his tryout, although saddened that Hermione retreated to the stands without even wishing him good luck.

While most of the Keeper tryouts were rubbish, Ron gulped slightly as Cormac McLaggen saved four out of five goals. He'd overheard the boy trying to lean on Harry for the position of Keeper, something that made Ron's ears turn red. He knew he wasn't the best on the team, but he'd helped win the Quidditch Cup the year before, hadn't he?

Ron glanced up into the stands and saw Hermione sitting there. At least she was there to watch him this time. Of course, that didn't make his nerves lighten up in the slightest. On the contrary, it made him feel even more sick.

Fortunately, McLaggen missed the last goal so badly that Ron couldn't help but grin at his chances. All he had to do was maybe not fall off his broom, and he'd have a shot at this. Once in the air, he felt free; glancing over at the stands he saw that Hermione was indeed watching. Grateful that no one was throwing taunts up at him, Ron easily saved all five goals, even one that Ginny tried to get past him which he caught by the very tips of his fingers.

 _"Well done," Harry croaked. "You flew really well -"_

 _"You did brilliantly, Ron!"_

Hermione was running toward them from the stands; Ron briefly saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face. He wondered for a moment what her problem was, but assumed that it was because there was a rumour that Parvati's parents were going to take her out of school. _Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione_.

 _"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron was saying happily. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it -"_

 _"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," said Hermione, looking amused._

Ron beamed with pride.

 _"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," said Ron in a highly satisfied voice. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded. ..."_

 _Hermione turned a very deep shade of pink at these words. Ron noticed nothing; he was too busy describing each of his other penalties in loving detail._

* * *

"Hi, Ron," Lavender said as she and Parvati passed the Gryffindor table to have a seat on the end. Despite being in mid conversation with Harry, Hermione paused to glare at the girls, Lavender especially, who had bragged about Ron's body the night before and then made fun of his ginger hair in the same sentence, ranking him and the other boys as though they were grades of beef.

Still in a mood as they left the table, Hermione caught sight of Ron and Lavender smiling at one another, and she couldn't help but feel a coldness settle over her. She'd never felt jealousy before Fleur Delacour, but now that she knew exactly what it was, the feeling made her sick with envy and bitterness. Ron's strutting only fuelled her annoyance.

She took her seat in the stands to watch the tryouts, promising herself that she'd stay through until the end. After missing Ron's victory match the year before, she devoted herself to her seat in the stands, promising to never miss another game as long as he was playing. The look of utter betrayal on his face when he'd found out that she'd not seen him win the Quidditch Cup had devastated her.

"It's only 'cause he's friends with them," Hermione overheard a voice a few rows below them and saw Cormac McLaggen talking to a few fifth year girls who were giggling about Harry and Ron. "The Weasley girl will probably make it just by association. I know a little something about how connections work. Y'see," and he grinned, "my uncle Tiberius is very influential at the Ministry."

"Harry doesn't care about connections," Hermione said with a scowl on her face.

"Hello, Granger," Cormac said and grinned at her. "Potter won't need to care about connections once he sees me up there. Weasley may have lucked out last year, but we all saw how he played before that. It's embarrassing. Plus, he looks like he bought his broom at a rummage sale."

"For your information, Ron works harder than almost anyone else on this team!" Hermione snapped.

"He would need to. If you'll excuse me, Granger, it's my turn." And he threw his broom over his shoulder. "Pay close attention, maybe you'll see something you like," he said, winking at her before taking to the sky.

Hermione felt bile rise in her throat along with an immense amount of anger.

She watched closely as Cormac saved the first four goals, taking a moment each time to lecture the Chasers about how to properly fly. When he did so to Ginny, she turned and looked down at Harry hoping that he'd caught it before she reached for her wand.

"Ginny!" Harry called up at her, catching her pre-hex.

"Fine!" Ginny screamed and rode her broom down to the grass.

Unable to contain herself, as though the words were itching their way out of her mouth. Hermione, drew her wand as quietly and discreetly as possible, pointed it at Cormac and whispered, " _Confundo_." She watched with approval as he completely missed the last shot.

* * *

After visiting Hagrid, Hermione, Ron and Harry headed back up to the castle _where they spotted Cormac McLaggen entering the Great Hall. It took him two attempts to get through the doors; he ricocheted off the frame on the first attempt. Ron merely guffawed and strode off into the Hall after him, but Harry caught Hermione's arm and held her back._

 _"What?" said Hermione defensively._

 _"If you ask me," said Harry quietly, "McLaggen looks like he was Confunded this morning. And he was standing right in front of where you were sitting."_

 _Hermione blushed._

 _"Oh, all right then, I did it," she whispered. "But you should have heard the way he was talking about Ron and Ginny! Anyway, he's got a nasty temper; you saw how he reacted when he didn't get in-you wouldn't have wanted someone like that on the team."_

 _"No," said Harry. "No, I suppose that's true. But wasn't that dishonest, Hermione? I mean, you're a prefect, aren't you?"_

 _"Oh, be quiet," she snapped, as he smirked._

 _"What are you two doing?" demanded Ron, reappearing in the doorway to the Great Hall and looking suspicious._

 _"Nothing," said Harry and Hermione together, and they hurried after Ron._

Ron's good mood, however, had changed instantly the moment Slughorn had appeared at dinner to invite Hermione and Harry to a private dinner for the Slug Club. Hermione had felt horrible that Ron had been overlooked, but she felt even worse knowing that Harry couldn't go because of detention.

 _"Oh, I wish you could come, I don't want to go on my own!" said Hermione anxiously thinking about McLaggen and how he'd winked at her._

 _"I doubt you'll be alone, Ginny'll probably be invited," snapped Ron._

She had little time to worry about McLaggen over the following weeks, as her main focus was on her own studies—plus that infernal book of Harry's. Despite her constant warnings of it's use, Harry not only continued to use it in Potions class, but outside as well, finding new and creative spells within it's pages to hex and jinx the other students in the hallways. As a prefect, Hermione was enraged, but she'd already been through years prior where she hadn't spoken to Ron, and she wasn't about to go and have that happen again just because she'd given Harry detention.

* * *

 **October 1996**

Things were supposed to lighten up on their first trip into Hogsmeade. Hermione had promised Ron the first place they would go would be Honey Dukes. She'd developed a strange affinity for Fizzing Whizzbees after her Daydream Charm on the Hogwarts Express and needed to restock. Her parents would be revolted by her new candy addiction. While they were able to make their purchases in peace, everything went downhill from there.

Slughorn arrived to invite Harry to another dinner party, where Ron was ultimately left out once again. Harry had run into Mundungus, who had been caught stealing Sirius's belongings. The final nail in the coffin of their awful day was at the Three Broomsticks, where Hermione glared across the table at Ron, who couldn't take his eyes off of Madam Rosmerta.

 _"Ron, what are you staring at?"_

 _"Nothing," said Ron, hastily looking away from the bar._

 _"I expect 'nothing's' in the back getting more firewhisky," said Hermione waspishly._

 _Hermione drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes flickering between Ron and the bar. The moment Harry drained the last drops in his bottle she said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"_

As if things couldn't get worse, the trip on the way back involved watching Katie Bell get cursed by a dark object, and then another several hours getting her into the hospital wing and explaining everything to Professor McGonagall. Suddenly it seemed that her worries over Ron, Harry, and Cormac McLaggen were minuscule compared to the fact that someone had cursed a student - all of which apparently boiled down to Draco Malfoy, according to Harry.

Herbology first thing in the morning was made interesting by Harry telling Ron and Hermione about his trips into the Pensieve with Dumbledore to find out the history of Tom Riddle and how those specific memories could somehow bring about Voldemort's defeat.

 _"Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."_

 _"And this is another party just for Slughorn's favourites, is it?" Ron snapped._

 _"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione._

 _"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug -"_

The idea that Hermione would hook up with Cormac McLaggen caused her eyes to widen and her face to turn red with anger. Even picturing it made her blanche. Before Ron could finish his sentence, she snapped at him ruthlessly.

 _"We're allowed to bring guests, and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"_

Had she really just done that? She'd planned on asking him of course; planned on asking him out on what she _assumed_ could be an official date. There was no chance of denying it now, not after the lesson on Amortentia. Hermione had gone to bed every night since that lesson dreaming about it, and him. But his poor choices and bad temper had thus far kept her from mentioning anything. She'd known how much he felt left out thanks to Slughorn, and Hermione imagined bringing him to the party as her date, and proudly telling the Professor how brilliant Ron was.

And now she'd gone and screamed at him in front of everyone in the greenhouse.

 _"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice._

 _"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen..."_

 _"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

 **November 1996**

The following few days had been some of the best since school had started. Hermione had technically asked him to go to a Christmas party with her, and even though Harry insisted that he didn't want to talk about the idea of his two best friends dating, Ron couldn't seem to shut up about it.

"Do you think it's a date?" Ron kept asking. "Because it's a party, and she's only allowed to bring one person."

"It's a date if you want it to be a date," Harry said before shoving his face into a pillow in frustration. "Now will you shut up and let me sleep? We've got Quidditch practice tomorrow morning."

"Well, what if she only asked me because she didn't want me feeling left out?" Ron asked, seriously worried about that idea. "You're going aren't you? Would _you_ have invited me?"

"No," Harry said quickly, glowering at Ron from his bed. "I'll have my own date."

"Date!" Ron shouted, pointing at Harry. "You said _date_! Should I bring flowers?" he asked, a sudden pale look coming over his face as he remembered what a mess he made of the Yule Ball their fourth year. "You think she'll wear that blue dress? The one she wore to the Yule Ball? She looked . . . she looked happy . . . before I went and fucked it all up."

"Go to sleep!" Harry shouted, muffled by his pillow that was pressed into his face.

* * *

The Quidditch practice the following day did _not_ go well. Ron was an absolute mess who not only failed to save anything, he'd accidentally punched Demelza Robbins in the mouth.

 _"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice._

 _"No, you didn't," said Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."_

 _Harry kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together._

Ron saw red.

His sister. His _baby_ sister. His innocent, sweet, naive baby sister who was perfect and wonderful and was currently being defiled by Dean Thomas. Dean. Bloody. Thomas. Dean Thomas, who was about to be a pile of blood and bones once Ron was done with him.

 _"Oi!" He screamed and watched as they broke apart immediately._

 _"What?" said Ginny._

 _"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"_

 _"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny._

Ginny _wanted_ this. His innocent, sweet, naive baby sister had wanted to snog her stupid boyfriend behind a bloody tapestry. Ron would have vomited if the anger wasn't keeping the bile in his throat down. When did Ginny grow up? Ron immediately remembered the argument he'd had with her about her skimpy looking bathing suit that summer. Ron would blame the bathing suit. Then he would owl their mother and let her know that if she were picking her battles with Ginny, she should at least try to _win_ them.

But then another thought occurred to him: Hermione owned a bathing suit like that. Did that mean that Hermione wanted to be snogged behind a tapestry? Would she want him to do that on their date if it really was a date? The anger left his throat for a split second by anxiety.

 _Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene._

 _"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron-"_

 _"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want people saying my sister's a -"_

 _"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"_

Don't say scarlet woman. Don't say scarlet woman. Don't say scarlet woman.

 _"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny -" said Harry._

 _"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel -"_

 _"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon._

 _"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her; it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"_

Ron reached for his wand barely noticing that Harry had moved between them.

 _"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public-!"_

 _"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?" You -_

Ron concentrated hard and, for the first time ever, he completed a nonverbal spell, a hex to be exact. An orange light burst from his wand at his sister, missing her by inches. Harry broke between the siblings and pushed Ron up against a wall. It was one thing for Malfoy to make fun of him. It was one thing for Cormac McLaggen, or even Fred and George, but for his own sister—his _little_ sister—to say things like this when _she'd_ been the one who'd been caught doing something wrong.

 _"Don't be stupid -"_

 _"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"_

He looked murderous as Ginny stormed away. He wanted to hex her again and this time hit her good and hard with it. Put her in a bloody Langlock Jinx and glue her tongue to the roof of her mouth. That would solve all his problems. She wouldn't be able to speak another word, AND she wouldn't be able to snog Dean Thomas.

As he stomped off down the corridor, though, Ginny became the least of his concerns. Krum. Viktor Krum. Hermione had snogged Viktor Krum. He was going to be sick. He'd assumed it had happened, of course, especially since she kept writing to him over the years. But lately he'd not even thought about the Bulgarian Seeker and how low and pathetic Ron had felt in his presence, watching him dance with Hermione.

 _His_ Hermione.

Ginny was right. Ron hadn't kissed anyone before. But _Hermione_ had.

"—betrayal of trust . . . supposed to be my friend . . . " he muttered as he made his way back toward the Fat Lady's portrait. Thinking of Hermione and Ginny simultaneously. He wanted to yell at Hermione. He wanted to punch Dean. He wanted to send Ginny back home to the Burrow and lock her in her room forever.

He wanted to kill Viktor Krum.

 _"D'you think Hermione really did snog Krum?"_ Ron asked abruptly, as they approached the Fat Lady.

"What?" Harry said confusedly. "Oh . . . er . . ."

 _"Dilligrout,"_ Ron said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

He made his way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, not stopping once to look at Hermione, who he could see out of the corner of his eyes in her usual chair by the fire, a parchment and quill in hand. It sickened him to think she could be writing to Viktor. Ron collapsed on his bed and before he had the chance to look across the room where Dean Thomas could be, he threw his curtains shut and turned over punching his pillow as hard as he could until his vision blurred with unshed tears.

* * *

"Morning!" Hermione said pleasantly as Ron walked down the stairs into the common room in front of Harry.

"Piss off," was what left his lips.

He had thought about talking to her like an adult. Calmly. But he had dreamt of the Yule Ball again that night and remembered everything. _"Ronald, you ruined everything!"_ That's what she had said to him. He had ruined her date with Viktor. A _real_ date. Not like the Christmas party invitation she had given him. Before he had a chance to think of something adult to say to her about what Ginny had told him, bitterness and jealousy filled his mouth. He couldn't take it out on Viktor Krum, who wasn't there, but he could take it out on Hermione—petty though it was.

"What . . .?" Hermione was speechless as Ron stormed out of the portrait hole, and she turned to Harry. "What was that about?!"

Harry sighed loudly. "I'll try and fix it."

And he had tried. Harry had attempted to keep the peace between them, but the colder Ron acted toward Hermione, the more she lashed out back at him. Soon it was like third year all over again, except there was no Peter Pettigrew to take the blame for their petty rows.

To make matters worse, Ron's poor attitude was affecting Quidditch. He was snapping at everyone and almost came to blows with his sister on the pitch. Anytime Harry tried to console him, Ron said he was ready to just quit. Not just the team either. He was ready to leave Hogwarts. Go the way of Fred and George and leave altogether, hoping of course that his twin brothers could offer him a job once he got out. He just couldn't be here anymore. His sister wasn't speaking to him, and any time he looked at Hermione he could see her kissing Viktor Krum in his head, and it made him sick inside. He didn't want to hurt anymore. But more than that, he wanted her to hurt the same.

 _The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry and Ron approached. Harry grinned and waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head._

 _"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!"_

 _Ron ignored her._

 _"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"_

 _"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast._

He was poking his fork at a piece of dry toast in front of him, thinking about what it would feel like to stab a fork into Viktor Krum. And then Dean Thomas. And then maybe himself. Maybe he could use "fork stabbing" as an excuse to get out of playing Quidditch. He was so focused that he'd barely heard Hermione approach.

 _"Don't drink that, Ron!"_

 _Both Harry and Ron looked up at her._

 _"Why not?" said Ron, eyeing the glass of pumpkin juice Harry had put in front of him._

 _"You just put something in that drink."_

 _"Excuse me?" said Harry._

 _"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"_

Felix Felicis? Would Harry really waste his prize on him?

 _"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket._

 _"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed._

He was tired of the fighting. He was tired of feeling pathetic. He was tired of losing. Losing at Quidditch, losing at life, losing the girl. But mostly, he was incredibly tired of Hermione telling him what to do.

Ron stood up, pulling the glass into his hand and with the most defiant expression he could muster as he looked into her face, he drained the glass without blinking. _"Stop bossing me around, Hermione."_

* * *

And the game was perfect. And Ron was a king. Weasley King in fact. The chants were still being sung outside the changing room as he and Harry pulled their gear off. Ron hadn't felt this good in days, years even.

 _"I want a word with you, Harry." Hermione took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."_

 _"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron._

Hermione ranted about the Felix Felicis and Harry, the good friend that he was, denied it completely. The angrier Hermione got, the better Ron seemed to feel. Harry continued to deny everything, pretty well for someone who Ron thought lied poorly. Then Harry retrieved the unopened bottle from his pocket, and Ron's mouth fell open.

 _Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"_

 _"I never said you couldn't - Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

 **November 1996**

 _"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this, "shall... shall we go up to the party, then?"_

 _"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment; I don't know what I'm supposed to have done..."_

Hermione stormed out of the changing room, wiping stray tears from her eyes. She hadn't known what happened. It seemed like yesterday that she was inviting Ron to the Christmas party with her. He'd smiled and it had warmed her heart. They'd somehow fallen back into an old routine of being friendly with one another. But more than that, there was something new, something better. And then, for no good reason at all, he woke up one morning and decided to . . . to . . . to _hate_ her. What had she done?

She couldn't think about what she had done wrong now. She was focused on what _Harry_ had done wrong. He'd tricked them, tricked them _both_ into thinking he'd used the Felix Felicis on Ron in order to win a stupid Quidditch match. She had had good intentions. She didn't want either of them to get in trouble if they'd been caught using it. She also felt angry with Harry for slipping the potion to Ron, thinking that he couldn't do as well on his own. She might have been upset with Ron for whatever reasons, but after everything they'd gone through over the last few years, she couldn't help but think that if he'd won the match by cheating, it would make him feel worse.

She had had good intentions.

Unfortunately, those good intentions blew up in her face and, instead of blaming Harry for not believing in him, Ron blamed _her_. As she stormed up through the castle, she couldn't help but start to blame herself too. She was tired of fighting and clearly she'd done something wrong to start this never-ending row with him. Somehow, she would have to make it up to him. But first she needed to know what she had done to start this whole mess.

Hermione crawled through the portrait hole—difficult, considering how packed the common room was; everyone was trying to get in at once. Hermione winced as someone shoved past her and she couldn't help but shout, "It's not a race!"

Once inside, she stood up and dusted off her robes as though they'd been mangled in the process of just getting into the room. She glanced around, searching for Ron, wanting to apologise and explain that she _did_ , in fact, believe in him, which was why she'd been so insulted over Harry's trick. Hermione had never seen him this cross with her, not even when Scabbers had gone missing and Ron believed Crookshanks ate him. Right or wrong in whatever the situation, Hermione needed to fix it now before whatever this drift between them became permanent.

"Did Ron go upstairs?" she asked Seamus as she approached the circled crowd of cheering Gryffindors. Despite the fact that the lot of them were in celebratory moods, she had last seen Ron storming from the changing rooms, furious. She'd gone to the tower under the impression that he would have run upstairs to be alone.

"Not yet." Seamus grinned at Hermione. "But if he keeps it up, he'll need some privacy soon."

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion at the statement, and then the shouts of the roaring crowd synchronised as everyone began chanting, "Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!" Hermione followed the chanting toward the inner circle where she saw a flash of red hair and then . . .

It was as if the air was sucked out of her lungs all at once and her heart seized inside of her chest painfully.

There was Ron, standing in the middle of the room with his lips locked against Lavender Brown's, his hands gripped tightly around her waist. Unable to tear her eyes away from the sight like some horrible accident, she sucked in a breath of hot air as she watched Ron break away from Lavender for a split second, grin, and then go back for seconds.

Hermione closed her eyes closed tightly and she felt bile rise in her throat. She needed to get out. The room was practically spinning and there were too many people crowded around her. She couldn't breathe and the idea of vomiting in from of the entire Gryffindor House made her sprint for the portrait hole.

The very second she exited the common room, Hermione fell to her knees on the floor outside of the portrait and she burst into tears.

"Oh dear, poor thing," the Fat Lady called down to her. "Everything all right?"

Without a word, Hermione rose to her feet and ran as quickly as possible, the need to get away was more important than anything in the world right now. She reached for any and every door, finding the first three locked, but the fourth opened without hesitation and allowed her in.

Heart-broken, she fell into sobs once again as the image of Ron snogging Lavender Brown re-entered her mind and wouldn't rid itself. Like a pestilence of doxies, the picture was eating away at everything good inside of her, and soon she found the sadness dissolving, making way for emptiness.

That's what it was. She felt empty. Empty and utterly devastated.

Sitting down on the nearby desk, she pulled her wand from her pocket, muttering, " _Avis_." A small flock of tiny yellow birds appeared out of her wand. She'd wanted company, but of her own choosing; the birds seemed best. They wouldn't talk to her and ask her why she'd been crying. She had thought about conjuring her Patronus, the beautiful little otter that reflected everything that was pure happiness in her life, but she wasn't sure she could do it even if a dementor attacked.

Hermione couldn't think of a single happy memory just then. The birds would have to do.

 _"Hermione?"_

Her gaze drew upward and she pulled a sleeve to her face, wiping away any lingering tears.

 _"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practising."_

 _"Yeah... they're - er - really good..." said Harry._

She hadn't wanted to talk; she hadn't wanted to have company; it was why she'd run away. But looking at Harry, she remembered how upset she'd been that Ron didn't think she believed in him. And suddenly, her pity for Ronald Weasley ran out. Sadness and emptiness inside of her made way for the purest and most bitter anger she'd ever felt.

 _"Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."_

 _"Er... does he?" said Harry._

 _"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was-?"_

The door creaked open again and Hermione looked up and her eyes widened in response to the new entries.

 _"Oh," Ron said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione._

 _"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her._

 _"Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"_

Hermione turned her stare on Ron, who only smiled, his attention fully on Harry. He was purposely ignoring her. Hermione suddenly knew what had happened. Ron had gone into the common room, hell bent on hurting her; Lavender must have gotten in the way. Everyone knew how the girl had been acting around Ron, and who made the first move she didn't know, but whatever had happened Ron had taken advantage of the fact that kissing Lavender would hurt Hermione. His ignoring her now had proved just that.

As the anger rose up in her, threatening a breaking point, Hermione slid off of the desk and made her way toward the door slowly, hoping that when she exited the room, Lavender wouldn't be outside waiting for Ron to continue their disgusting display of affection.

 _"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."_

Then something else occurred to her: Ron and Lavender hadn't been coming to look for Harry and Hermione. The surprise on their faces upon entering the classroom said that much. Which meant that they'd been looking for somewhere private. She remembered what Seamus had said about Ron needing to find some privacy. If Ron and Lavender would snog like that in front of everyone, what would they get up to in the privacy of an empty and dark classroom? Her heart raced as images flooded her mind and tears threatened to overwhelm her again.

 _"Oppugno!" She shrieked and watched as the canaries circling her head turned and sped like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach._

It felt good to watch him suffer. She even caught sight of blood on his hands and something inside of her felt completely justified. She didn't even care if she got detention for it, which she wouldn't, because she knew for a fact that Ron would be too embarrassed to turn her in.

 _"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it._

On the other side of the door, Hermione let out one last sob as the sadness threatened to return.

* * *

How could she still not believe in him? After everything they'd been through, after everything she'd told him over the last few years. How could she think that he was such rubbish that he'd need to use magic in order to accomplish anything? Ron's ears were red as he stormed through the castle, kicking his way up to the tower where he was determined to lock himself away in his dorm and come up with an idea on how to escape Hogwarts and never look back.

Unfortunately, when he walked through the portrait hole, he was greeted by cheers from his teammates and fellow Gryffindors. Somehow the feeling of inadequacies left him as they all congratulated him on the win. Seamus patted him on the back and began talking in detail about many of Ron's amazing saves, and Ron even momentarily allowed Dean Thomas to speak to him without thinking about punching his stupid face in.

Out of habit, he scanned the room for Hermione and Harry, but then he stopped as he remembered what had just happened downstairs. No, he needed to forget about Hermione and how she had made him feel. Everyone around him was happy, praising his talents and sayings things like, "We've always known you were the best!" and "Didn't doubt you for a second, mate." The words were a salve on an open wound.

"I thought you were brilliant out there, Ron," someone said from behind him, followed by a giggle.

Ron offered an awkward smile as he turned to face Lavender. "Uh, thanks."

She reached a hand up and wrapped her small fingers against his bicep. "You must be very strong."

Ron instinctively flexed his arm, feeling stupid after he'd done it, but the grin that spread across her face made him smirk smugly and she giggled.

He turned back to the crowd, looking for Hermione once again. Maybe if she saw another girl touching his arm, she'd get jealous. _Lavender_ thought he was brilliant. Why couldn't _Hermione_ think he was brilliant?

He continued to look for Hermione, but instead his eyes fell on long red hair in the corner of the room. The sight of his sister approaching Dean—her eyes alight with what looked to be desire—made his stomach churn. He wanted to go over and separate the two before they vanished behind another tapestry, but he was distracted by the memory of Ginny's words. Hermione had snogged Viktor Krum. He bristled at the thought and remembered that he'd wanted to hurt her, but more than that, prove to her that he was just as good as Viktor Krum. Or maybe, prove to himself.

He felt a squeeze on his arm and turned to realise that Lavender was still there gripping him tightly, looking up at him with her big eyes, eyelashes batting quickly. She licked her lips and he smiled. A bit of courage was all it took and Ron dove toward her, pressing his lips against hers. A cheer erupted from the crowd around them and Ron could feel Lavender giggle against his mouth.

He'd only meant to give her a kiss to see if he could, so he could find Hermione and say, "There, you're not the only one who's kissed someone else!" He wanted to find Ginny and shove her words back down her throat. Then it would all be over with. He could stop being angry and things with Hermione could maybe have a chance of returning to something that felt normal. But suddenly, Lavender's mouth opened beneath his and her hands dug their way into his hair, holding him against her face.

Frightened due to his inexperience, Ron tried to pull away but then he felt her tongue touch the crease of his lips and a warm feeling pitted in his stomach and he felt as his arms—of their own choosing—wrapped themselves around her waist and pull her tight against his body. He could almost physically feel his ego boosting itself at the feel of the girl in his arms. Her skin was soft and he pulled her harder against him, hoping that the feel of her would wash away the growing guilt in his chest.

What did _he_ have to feel guilty for?

He reacted with a grin against her, never having felt this physically good before, but the deep pain in his chest only worsened. Why hadn't he been brave enough to do this with _Hermione_ back at the Burrow? And then he remembered that Hermione would have snogged Krum _long_ before that moment they'd shared by the pond. As the pain worsened inside of him, Ron gripped Lavender tighter in an attempt to block it all out.

Eventually, he broke away, gasping for air and couldn't help but grin down at her. She was smiling up at him. He'd apparently done something right. It felt good to do something right. He wanted to feel it again, so he pulled her back into his arms and crushed his lips against hers once more.

Minutes passed, and soon his friends stopped chanting his name and started yelling, "Get a room!" Ron blushed and broke away from Lavender laughing. Before he had a chance to tell everyone to piss off, he felt his hand being tugged away toward the portrait hole.

"What are you doing?" he asked Lavender as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

She grinned up at him and giggled. "Getting a room, silly."

Ron swallowed hard, what little bravery he had disappeared in an instant.

"But . . . maybe we should go back to the party," he suggested, but his feet followed her as she lead him forward by his arm, gripping handles of doors, cursing under her breath to find that they were locked.

"You don't want to go and have a little fun with me?" Lavender grinned up at him, licking her lips.

"I . . . fun," Ron muttered, dumbfounded and unable to complete sentences.

Ten minutes ago he was probably the most inexperienced sixth year in the boys dormitory—except Neville, maybe. Now, a girl was dragging him away from the Tower for privacy and fun. Suddenly, Ron was overcome with the knowledge that he knew almost nothing about Lavender Brown, except that she was a fan of Divination, something that made him almost hate her if she hadn't just spent the last ten minutes snogging him in front of everyone.

Lavender grinned. "It's okay. You deserve a little fun after that match."

Ron smiled. She was right. He did deserve a little fun after today. He reached for the next door and laughed as it opened in front of him and he tugged on Lavender's hand, pulling her inside.

 _"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione._

 _"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her._

Ron didn't even feel the door close behind him as he stared over at Harry and Hermione. His gaze drew quickly away from her, looking at Harry. He just couldn't face her. She'd _seen_. She _must_ have seen him, and suddenly the feeling of victory that he'd had passed immediately. He'd wanted to hurt her like she'd hurt him. He wanted to show her that if she could snog Krum, then he could snog someone else too. But the victorious feeling of revenge didn't sit well and he had a notion that if he'd dared to look into Hermione's eyes, he would break down and apologise to her. But he couldn't do that.

 _"Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"_

 _"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."_

As she moved toward the door, Ron felt sudden relief that she hadn't screamed at him. He'd expected her to. She had a right to, didn't she? He felt he had a right to be angry about Viktor bloody Krum.

 _"Oppugno!"_

There was a split second when he questioned what he'd heard before he watched as the small flock of canaries attacked him. His eyes widened and he rose his hands up to cover his face as the tiny birds pecked and scratched at him.

 _"Gerremoffme!"_ he yelled and heard the door slam shut.

"Bloody birds!" Ron shouted trying to swat them which only seemed to anger them more, and they continued to scratch and peck. His hands were bleeding now. "Little help, Harry?!"

" _Finite_!" He heard Harry shout, and in a small flash of light, the birds vanished in a puff of falling feathers.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" Ron shouted at the door, wincing in pain as he looked down at his hands and arms, covered in scratches, some fairly deep.

Harry rose a brow at him. "Seriously?"

Ron kicked the desk roughly. "She's attacking me with _magic_ now? Telling me that I'm shit isn't enough?"

"You're both being ridiculous," Harry responded, heading toward the door.

"I'm just doing what she did," Ron snarled. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Good game, today," Harry said with a sigh and then turned and left Ron alone in the room.

For a split second as the door closed, Ron was terrified that Lavender would walk in. He looked down again at the cuts in his hands and arms, running a finger over one that was bleeding a little excessively. It had torn through the scar tissue on his right arm from where the tentacles of the brain had gripped tightly. Hermione had told him that his scars were proof that he was brave.

Well, now he was going to have more scars, but he didn't feel very brave.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

 **December 1996**

Somehow the worse Ron felt about the situation with Hermione, the more entangled with Lavender he became. Snogging her felt amazing, better than almost anything else, but the guilt and emptiness that followed made him feel worse. This only made him want to wrap himself in her again to forget about the empty, sick feeling in his gut; the perfect cycle of destruction. He did his best to remain in public areas, even if it was just the common room where anyone could walk in at any moment. Lavender's affections for him were often terrifying, and even though that first night had ended with him being savaged by bloody birds, Ron had been grateful that Lavender's plan to get him away for some "private fun" had been unsuccessful.

He only saw Hermione in classes or in passing either at the Gryffindor table or in the common room. Their eyes would meet briefly before one or the other would move quickly away. He felt sick and no matter what he did, the feeling wouldn't go away. He had no reason to feel guilty. _She_ had kissed Viktor Krum, and it wasn't as though they were promised to each other. Ron knew how he felt about her, but she clearly thought he was worthless. At least Lavender seemed to enjoy his company, though they didn't really do much other than snog.

Anytime his girlfriend _did_ open her mouth to speak, Ron found himself wincing at her high-pitched squeals or ridiculous opinions. She loved everything he hated, and hated everything he loved—except Quidditch, but then she couldn't even carry on a real conversation about it. Although he enjoyed hearing her go on and on about his Keeper skills, she knew little else about the game. She'd also taken to giving him nicknames that made him grimace, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her she was mental.

At least he could disappear in class work, which was a strange new feeling for him.

 _They had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the colour of their own eyebrows. Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar moustache; Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again. She raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind._

The same sickening guilt swept over him, and Lavender clutched his arm to tell him how funny he was. Ron sighed, only feeling worse now. He'd made Hermione cry. He _hated_ making her cry. And he hated that Lavender was pleased with him for doing so. He couldn't help but wonder if things were different and he hadn't screwed things up with Hermione, if she would have scolded him for teasing Lavender in class. He liked to think that she would. She wasn't the type of person to enjoy cruelty toward anyone. Except maybe Malfoy every once in awhile.

And himself at her own hand.

 _"You could say sorry," suggested Harry bluntly_.

The two sat down for dinner in the Great Hall. Ron was grateful to be alone for the first time in what felt like weeks. He glanced down at the end of the table where Hermione sat by herself. She looked sad, or angry; he couldn't tell the difference these days. Either way, it made him feel horrible and as much as he did want to apologise, he had too much pride. Apologising now would make him look stupid, and he'd had enough of that as it was. No, _she_ would have to make the first move this time.

 _"What, and get attacked by another flock of canaries?" muttered Ron._

 _"What did you have to imitate her for?"_

 _"She laughed at my moustache!"_

 _"So did I, it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen."_

"Oh no." Ron winced as Lavender approaching.

"Sick of her already?" Harry asked.

"My jaw hurts is all." Ron winced as he rubbed at it.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You didn't look like you were in pain this morning when I caught the two of you snogging on the couch."

"Yeah well." Ron looked away, almost ashamed. "How mental do I have to be to say no to a girl who wants to sit on my lap and snog me all day?"

"Depends on the girl I guess." Harry shrugged his shoulders, and Ron couldn't help but see a shimmer of guilt on his best friends face.

Before he had a chance to find out why, Lavender was at his side. She squealed and wrapped herself around his arm. He smiled up at her awkwardly, and she responded by flinging her arms around his neck uncomfortably. Before he had a chance to even say hello to her, her lips were pressed against his, and she was very nearly in his lap.

His stomach groaned as she kissed him. He hadn't even eaten yet, couldn't she let up for a half hour? He winced a little as she adjusted herself against him, and he turned his hips awkwardly away from her as she painfully rubbed her knee against the inside of his thigh.

She pulled away, suddenly very concerned. "You all right?"

"It's just . . . public, Lav," Ron mumbled quietly.

She looked an equal mixture of furious and mortified. "You're ashamed of me?"

"No," Ron lied. "Just . . . " And he winced uncomfortably as he tried to force her from his lap.

Somehow the look of pain on his face had gotten her attention off of the fact that he didn't want to touch her in front of the whole school at the breakfast table. "Is my Won-Won hurt?" she cooed, and Ron grimaced at the name but offered a smile as he pushed her slightly off of his lap.

"Just uh, you know, Quidditch practice," he lied.

 _"Oh, hi, Hermione!"_ Pavarti called out, drawing Ron's attention away from Lavender.

 _"Hi, Parvati!" said Hermione, ignoring Ron and Lavender completely. "Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"_

 _"No invite," said Parvati gloomily. "I'd love to go, though, it sounds like it's going to be really good... you're going, aren't you?"_

Ron looked down. He was supposed to be going to that party with Hermione. He remembered how excited he had been trying to figure out if it was supposed to be a date. Now he worried that she'd be going alone, stuck in a room with stuffy old Professors and bloody Cormac McLaggen. Ron wondered if she would even bother going without a proper date. When Lavender caught Ron staring at Hermione, she gripped his face tightly with her hands and pulled him into a deep kiss. He muffled under her grasp, unable to breathe and tried to pry her off of him.

 _"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're-"_

Ron was finally able to pull away from Lavender, his eyes wide. What had he just heard?!

 _"-we're going up to the party together."_

 _"Cormac?" said Parvati. "Cormac McLaggen, you mean?"_

 _"That's right," said Hermione sweetly. "The one who almost," she put a great deal of emphasis on the word, "became Gryffindor Keeper."_

Ron's mouth fell open as he stared at her. What was she playing at? His eyes turned to glance at Harry for answers, but his best friend had the look on his face like he was trying to find a good hole to crawl into and hide until spring. Lavender continued to tug on his arm, but he shooed her away with his palm, his focus back on Hermione, who refused to look at him.

 _"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati, wide-eyed._

 _"Oh-yes-didn't you know?" said Hermione, with a most un-Hermione-ish giggle._

The noise made Ron physically recoil.

 _"No!" said Parvati, looking positively agog at this piece of gossip. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen."_

 _"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrected her, still smiling._

And there it was, the truth: she had always thought he was rubbish.

She had snogged Viktor Krum, and she was going to do the same with Cormac McLaggen.

Ron felt worse than he'd ever felt before in his entire life. All emotion drained from him and, as Hermione walked away, he was grateful that Parvati took all of Lavender's attention because he thought if she tried to kiss him now he might choke. It seemed like his lungs weren't working. And there was something missing inside of him. Something that had been there moments ago but was now gone. Something Hermione had stolen from him.

"I'm going to uh . . . go back to . . ." He just gestured in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower and stood up walking away, not even stopping to say goodbye to Lavender.

* * *

 _"I like really good Quidditch players," Hermione corrected her, still smiling._

Why had she said that?!

As the words left her mouth, she regretted them immediately. This was too far. This was _certainly_ too far. She glanced very briefly at Ron who looked like he'd just been hit with a Bludger, and her stomach knit itself into a tight knot of guilt. He wasn't looking at her. He wasn't saying a thing. She turned quickly and walked away. She knew where it would hurt the most, and she'd hit him there without even thinking about it. Ron knew all of her insecurities, and he had never used them against her. He'd never called her stupid or ugly. He'd never called her a _Mudblood_.

This had not been the plan. Hermione had wanted to _annoy_ him. Stir anger up inside of him so that he would burst and yell at her. Something! Their usual rows had turned into something sickeningly passive aggressive. Instead of yelling at one another in the common room, they avoided eye contact at all cost and resorted to underhanded comments in classrooms like he'd done in Transfiguration.

She missed the fighting. She missed the yelling. She missed the passion.

She missed _him_.

She'd also needed a new date to the stupid Christmas party and, after considering just going with Harry for a split second, Hermione figured that if she went with someone Ron hated, she might actually get a reaction out of him. Clearly she'd been wrong, and now she was stuck at Slughorn's party with Cormac McLaggen, who had not only put his arm around her waist the first second he could but kept leaning in too closely and whispering this into her ear. His breath reeked.

There were the usual meet and greets at the party, Slughorn doing his best to introduce them to everyone, not for their benefit but for him to show off. Hermione worried that one day she and Harry would feel obligated to return to one of these parties in the future with Slughorn at their sides bragging about how influential he'd been in their education. She found herself desperate for some fresh air and made her way to what looked like an exit, though she couldn't be certain with the way the large drapes were hung all over the place.

Cormac appeared behind, grinning at her. "Looking for a dark corner?"

"Looking for a way out," she snapped at him.

"Ready to leave?" This idea sounded more appealing to him.

She sighed irritably. "It's just crowded."

"I understand. You want to be alone," he said and stepped closer to her, moving his hand quickly to her waist. "Oh, look." He gestured upwards at a sprig of mistletoe above them and then leaned in, trying to kiss her.

She jerked her head backward. "No, actually," she said, trying to scoot out of his grip but he put his other hand on her hip and pulled her up tightly against him. Her eyes flew wide open with rage and disgust. "Let me go, Cormac," she warned him.

"C'mon Granger, haven't you been listening all night?" he asked her. "I'm a _Keeper_." He grinned at his use of the word and she rolled her eyes in response.

" _Ron's_ Keeper," she said, challenging him.

"And yet you're here on _my_ arm tonight. Not Weasley's."

"Speaking of arms," she said and glared at him. He chuckled, pulling away from her. "I'd appreciate it if you kept yours to yourself. Hands too."

"Fine, fine." He smirked. "I'll get you, though. You'll see. I grow on people."

"Like mould," she muttered under her breath as she bolted away from Cormac. She ducked and moved through the crowd, hoping that he wasn't following her.

 _"What's happened to you?" asked Harry once Hermione had found him._

 _"Oh, I've just escaped-I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her._

 _"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely._

 _"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole -"_

 _"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted._

 _"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall..."_

 _"Let me get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"_

 _Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"_

 _"Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen-"_

 _"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."_

 _"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match -"_

 _"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen non-stop ever since-oh no, here he comes!"_

And she ducked out of the way. The party was awash and she was desperate to leave and immediately did so the second she had a chance to. Hermione carried her shoes in her hand as she made her way back to Gryffindor tower. It was late, and everyone would be asleep, or at least she hoped. She couldn't imagine walking in on Ron and Lavender in a tight embrace after the night she'd just had. It would serve her right, though. Harry had made that point. Hermione deserved worse than being forced to deal with Cormac after how she'd behaved.

She heard a voice behind her, and she let out a deeply irritable sigh. "Miss me?"

"No," she answered without looking.

"Ah, you owe me one, Granger." Cormac skipped ahead and stopped right in front of her as she attempted to head up the stairs toward the tower. He was holding something in his hand, a large chunk of mistletoe.

Hermione blanched.

"Thank you for accompanying me to the party, Cormac, but I'm eager to go to bed." Hermione tried to step around him.

He grinned. "Care for company?"

Hermione's eyes flew wide and her mouth opened to shout at him, but before she could get a word out, he pressed his lips over hers. She screamed into his mouth, placing her hands on his shoulders as she tried to push him off of her, but he was much bigger than she was and he held onto her tightly.

Her hand reached down to her purse where she had stored her wand and withdrew it. Unable to speak, she closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she possibly could, thinking " _Relashio_!" aiming her wand directly at him.

A spark of light emitted from her wand and Cormac flew backward, his arms that had been holding into her released. He looked annoyed but almost amused at the same time. "Nice trick, Granger!" he called after her as she ran up the stairs as fast as she possibly could.

She fell into a puddle of tears the moment she entered the common room, glad to see that the only light in the room was coming from the fireplace, as the rest of the Gryffindors had clearly already gone to bed. She used the back of her arm to wipe her mouth fiercely, making a gagging noise as she did and then growled angrily as she stormed up the stairs to the girls dormitories, slamming her door shut behind her loudly.

* * *

Ron turned around in the chair in front of the fireplace as he heard the door open. Catching sight of Hermione, he ducked back into the chair so she couldn't see him. But when he heard her crying, his attention was drawn back to her immediately, something inside of him igniting.

Why was she crying? Who had made her cry?

His nose twitched in anger, and he briefly forgot about how she'd made him feel that morning. He watched curiously as she wiped her mouth and spat, and the bottle of rage that lay dormant inside of him was suddenly opened. His bright blue eyes widened as he watched her run up the stairs.

Ron stood as if to follow her, but made no movement toward the stairs. His eyes turned to the portrait hole, and he glared into the darkness, waiting silently for it to open again. When it finally did, his suspicions were confirmed as a smug looking Cormac McLaggen entered the common room, something clutched tightly in his hand.

"Weasley!" Cormac grinned at him. "Here," he tossed him the thing in his hand, "bin that for me, would you?" He laughed. "I think it's been used up good and proper."

Ron glanced down at the sprig of mistletoe in his palm, and he clutched it hard, balling his hand into a tight fist. His attention turned back to McLaggen, immediately noticing smeared lipstick across his face.

"You know, for someone so small, Granger sure is feisty," Cormac said and then made a move toward the stairs.

"You made her cry," Ron muttered under his breath.

Cormac rolled his eyes. "Oh, she's dramatic."

 _No one makes Hermione cry_ , Ron thought, and it was the last thought he had before he ran up and punched Cormac straight in the nose. The feeling of crunched bone beneath his knuckles as blood spurted out and Cormac let out a painful shout, reaching up and grabbing his face.

Ron acted quickly before McLaggen had a chance to retaliate. He reached for his pocket and removed his wand, pointed and called out, " _Confundo_!" and suddenly, Cormac stumbled backward and fell onto his back, eyes crossed.

Ron took several long deep breaths to compose himself. It would be more believable if he didn't look enraged.

"Hey, mate," Ron said as he leaned forward, pocketing his wand as he held a hand out to Cormac. "You all right? You should be more careful." He looked into Cormac's eyes carefully as he'd been taught to do for such a spell. "You know the steps to the girls dorms are jinxed. They'll knock you something awful if you try and go up again." Ron narrowed his eyes. " _Ever_ ," he clarified.

Cormac winced. "Yeah. Damn, must have . . ." He blinked rapidly, confused. "How'd I . . .?"

"Stairs slid you down so fast you hit your face on the floor just there." Ron pointed to the pool of blood that had leaked out of Cormac's face.

"Shit!" Cormac yelled, embarrassed. "I need to get to the Hospital Wing! You better not mention this to anyone, Weasley!"

"Yeah, it's pretty humiliating," Ron agreed. "Your secret's safe with me, pal. Unless . . ." he added, and Cormac slowly turned his eyes still looking dazed. "Unless you put your hands on Hermione again. Then _everyone's_ going to know."

Cormac glared but said nothing and then stormed out of the portrait hole.

"Fuck!" Ron grimaced and looked down at his fist, still clenched tight, already looking swollen and bruised, some fingers actually appeared broken. "Hard faced prat," Ron growled and reached for his wand, crossing his other fingers as he muttered, " _Episky_ ," and watched the bones in his hand straighten up a little, repairing themselves. The pain lingered as he hadn't done the spell entirely correct.

He wanted to go and ask Hermione to fix it for him, but he knew better. Not only was she in the current habit of hating him, if she found out that he'd violently tried to defend her honour, he was a dead man. Hermione was always a girl who could take care of herself. But it didn't make him want to try any less.

"Worth it," he muttered softly and then made his way up the stairs to the boys dormitories, feeling a sense of severe pride returning to him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

 **January 1997**

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Hermione screamed at him as she stomped into the common room. She knew Ron had a free period, and after spotting Lavender Brown on her way to one of her classes, Hermione had taken the chance to rush off as quickly as possible to Gryffindor Tower to confront him, her hands shaking with contempt as she pushed her way into the room.

Ron stared at her incredulously, scowling in reply to the screaming. "Since when are you talking to me?"

Not only had the two barely spoken to one another since Ron's post-game lip lock with Lavender and the relationship that immediately followed, but since they'd all returned from Christmas holidays, Hermione and Ron barely allowed themselves within ten feet of one another. The small exception being classes where they had little choice or say in the matter.

Hermione had spent the holiday with her parents, both of whom hovered too much and could read her too easily. She moped around the house, barely enjoying any bit of Christmas. When her presents arrived by owl, her mother immediately noticed a lack of anything from Ron, which prompted an unfortunate conversation where Hermione burst into tears and confessed everything. Her mother had been sympathetic to her plight, promising that the pain of heartbreak would eventually dull and fade away with time. Her father had tried to explain that teenage boys were often incredibly stupid, not knowing how else to comfort his broken-hearted daughter.

She was grateful to return to Hogwarts, where no one was pitying her except perhaps herself. Unfortunately for Hermione, the first person she'd run into was Cormac McLaggen. She'd politely asked how his holiday was, not wanting to back away from him in cowardice after their last encounter. He had mentioned that it was all right, except he had missed the Hogwarts Express and had to be given special permission to use a Portkey to return home because he'd spent the night before leaving school in the Hospital Wing with a broken nose. When she asked how he'd broken his nose, he seemed embarrassed but also confused, and couldn't seem to make up a lie about it fast enough. He ended up saying it was none of her business and then mumbled words under his breath as he walked away bitterly.

One word she caught: Weasley.

It didn't take long before she put things together.

"You confunded Cormac and then broke his nose!" she accused Ron.

"I did no such bloody thing!" Ron shouted back at her, his ears turning red immediately as she stepped closer to him and pointed a finger right up into his face.

"Oh really?" she snarled. "So you mean to tell me that after his date with me to the Christmas party, he happened to trip and break his nose?" Her eyes narrowed. "And then forget exactly how he'd done it? You think I don't know what a Confundus Charm looks and sounds like?"

"I did _not_ confund him and then break his nose!" Ron insisted very firmly, a mild fury rising in his chest. Then, after a long moment's pause, he continued, "I broke his ugly git nose, and _then_ I confunded him!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and mild horror. She had clearly not expected him to admit it.

"What is the matter with you!?" Hermione screamed.

"Matter with _me_?" he yelled back at her, the volume bringing life back to something he thought long dead inside of him. He missed fighting like this. "You always think there's something wrong with me." He scowled, his bright blue eyes turning dark as he stared at her, his temper rising as his pride began to fall, but the flame in his chest burned on angrily.

"Yes, well, now you've got someone to remind you how _brilliant_ you are." Hermione let the words fall out of her mouth, poisoned with sarcasm and bitterness.

"Yeah, I do!" Ron defended. "Lavender makes me feel—"

"Like a man?" Hermione interrupted him, rolling her eyes. It made her sick to think exactly how Lavender made him feel.

"She doesn't make me feel like a _child_!" he snapped at her defensively.

"Really?" Her eyes narrowed. "She doesn't treat you like a child, _Won-Won_?" Hermione said, imitating Lavender's high-pitched voice. A grin spread across her jaw when she saw him wince at the word and she was tempted to say it again and again, as though saying it repeatedly weakened him; punish him for acting like a temperamental toddler. Unfortunately, the nickname caused Hermione to get sick as well, and saying it once was all she could handle.

"This isn't about Lavender," he said, trying to turn the argument back around.

"No, it's about Cormac and you're ridiculous temper!" Hermione folded her arms across her chest defiantly, as though the action ended the row right there in her favour. She stood, a victorious look on her face as she locked eyes with Ron, refusing to blink first.

Ron stared back into hers and there was a long pause while he appeared to contemplate his next words extremely carefully. "I know what he did!" he shot back at her. "I was here; I watched you come in. I saw you crying." His resolve seemed to break a little but then lit right back up. "Then bloody _McLaggen_ walks in strutting like he'd won the damn House Cup! Prick tosses a mistletoe at me like it's his trophy, your lipstick smeared all over his stupid face!" He felt his heart racing as he recalled the memory.

The memory caused her to sicken visibly. How had Ron seen her? It was her most humiliating moment, and he'd seen it. Seen her weak and crying and sickened by what had happened with Cormac. "I didn't kiss him!" Hermione huffed quickly, feeling as if the argument had suddenly turned against her.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I know that. I'm not as stupid as I look. I saw how you acted when you came in from your date. You didn't kiss him, but he sure as hell did something to you. And I wasn't going to let him get away with it," he growled protectively.

" _I_ didn't let him get away with it, Ronald!" Hermione cried. "You'd really think I'd just let him grope me?" The idea disgusted her.

Ron reacted to her words by widening his eyes and sucking in a sharp breath. He'd clearly assumed that Cormac had kissed Hermione, but now his mind was making him see a much worse scenario. "I don't care if you hexed his bollocks off, Hermione," he said as he shook with anger. "I still needed to do something."

"Why?" she pleaded, her tone changing but her volume remaining steady. "Why did _you_ need to do something? Violence doesn't solve anything, Ron!" Her hair was flying around as she shook her head with anger, the ends of it almost sparking. It almost amused him as her cheeks grew pink.

"It solved _this_ ," Ron insisted, folding his arms across his chest. "And _you're_ one to talk, sicking birds at people," he said and narrowed his eyes at her.

"That was . . . I . . ." she stammered and the colour drained from her face. "Fine," she reached for one of her large books, dropping the rest of the bag to the floor before turning and smacking him on the arm with the tome as hard as she possibly could, "violence - solves - all problems - does it?! Fine!"

Ron put up with it the first few strikes, but the book was actually pretty heavy and, after a moment or two, he winced more out of irritation than pain. "Ow! Knock it off! Damn it, Hermione!"

"No! This is how you solve things!" she barked and continued to strike him, her eyes blazing.

Ron growled in response and in a flash he threw his hand out, knocking the book from her hands. When he saw that this did little to sway her, as her fists were now reaching out for him, he put his hands out in front of his chest and quickly snatched up her balled hands into his own like they were tiny Quaffles. She struggled against him, determined to strike him as hard and as much as possible, but Ron held her tight.

He wasn't letting up. Why should he? Just let her go so she could hit him again? Hermione was constantly using her brain against him; it was about time Ron used his strength against her, even if his only reason for doing so was to protect himself and calm her the hell down.

When she started pulling and pushing against his grip, he instinctively pulled her body up against his limiting her range of motion, releasing her hands only to grab her forearms. Hermione snarled up at him, her face red and her breath heavy.

"Let me go!" she snapped.

Had she been any closer, Ron was certain she might have bitten him. "No, you'll just start hitting me again! Calm the hell down!"

"You have no right . . ." she continued to struggle, "to fight my battles for me! I am not Ginny!"

"No, you're not," Ron's voice lowered and he walked forward, forcing Hermione to step backwards until her back pressed flesh against the wall. "You're not Ginny. I won't protect you the same way I'll protect her. She's my sister." His voice was low and almost calm, but somehow still firm and resolute as he spoke. "See, one day Ginny's going to actually pick a bloke who's not a complete and utter git, and she'll love him and he'll end up family. And even if I don't like it, I'll tolerate it as best as I can for _her_ sake."

"And me?" Hermione panted, her face still angry but her voice softened.

"You? I don't care if it's Vicky Krum, Cormac bloody McLaggen, or someone who leaves Hogwarts to become the damn Minister for Magic. I don't care how good he is, or smart he is, or perfect he is . . . I will hate him with everything inside of me," Ron growled low and so intensely that Hermione's eyes widened.

She'd wanted this, hadn't she? It was why she'd asked Cormac to the Christmas party to begin with. She wanted Ron to react. To fight her. And now he was and she was suddenly scared. Not of _him_ , but of being this close to him, with this level of honesty.

His hands held her forearms tightly, and she finally relaxed them a bit, releasing her fists to place her palms firmly against his chest. Ron inhaled sharply in response to the touch and somehow found room to press closer against her, pinning her between himself and the wall tightly.

He lessened his grip on her wrists, and she knew immediately that if she wanted to, she could just slip away, but she stood frozen in place, his face just inches from hers. Both were breathing heavy; the anger filled argument had taken a serious toll on them physically.

Ron swallowed hard as he pushed against her, feeling her hands on his chest and her body tight against his like never before. A tension built up between them, aching for friction. He released one of her forearms completely, bringing his hand up to her face, first to brush her chin with his thumb and then to cup the back of her head, threading his fingers through her tangled mess of hair. He licked his lips in desperation, the hunger evident in his eyes as they bore right through her, locked on her mouth.

He hesitated as he noticed her lip quivering. Frustration filled him up and he clenched his eyes shut tight trying to get a hold of himself. He pressed his forehead against hers, trying to will himself to either push off from her and run away, or to dig inside himself and find the courage to do what he'd been wanting to do for years.

Kiss her.

Kiss her like Viktor Krum and Cormac McLaggen never could. Because Ron knew there was no possible way they could feel about her the way that he did.

They breathed each other in deeply, and Hermione shivered as she exhaled.

Mowed grass. Parchment. The sweet smell of his hair.

Ron let a slow, quivering breath out.

She smelled like the library, porridge and . . . lavender.

When Ron opened his eyes to look at her, he saw that hers were shut tight and tears were leaking out of the corners, streaming softly down her face. He'd almost kissed her. He'd wanted to more than anything in the whole world. To cup her head in his hands and draw her up against him and kiss her like she'd never been kissed before. Kiss her like she _deserved_ to be kissed. Kiss her hard enough that she would just know . . . know everything inside of him.

He'd almost kissed someone who wasn't his girlfriend.

Ron's chest swelled with guilt. He might have been rubbish at handling emotional situations. He might have been a terrible friend, a prat of a son, and the worst wizard in the world. But he never thought he'd be a cheat. The guilt was only made worse by the tears trailing down Hermione's cheeks as she kept her eyes closed, refusing to look at him.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly, bringing his hand forward to wipe one of the tears away. "I didn't mean to . . ."He pulled away from her quickly, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. What had he done? What kind of man was he?

Hermione felt him pull away and it was like the air was pulled from her lungs again. _No_ , she thought. _Stay_. She reached a hand up and wiped away the remaining tears that had overflowed onto her face, embarrassed. She'd been so angry with him and anger was easy to demonstrate. It was easy to yell and scream at Ron; he'd always just yell back. But he'd taken her into his arms, pressed himself against her body causing something inside of her stomach to pinch and twist in a painful, but wonderful, aching way. She'd felt his heartbeat against her hand and he'd licked his lips as if tempting her, but the pain was too much. What was she expected to do? Make a fool of herself and kiss him? Kiss him and then watch him recoil in horror and then run off to Lavender? The temptation was too much, so she'd closed her eyes and let the tears fall because crying seemed easier than shouting.

"Ron," Hermione whispered as she looked at him, the colour draining from his face. She knew that look. Guilt. Blame. She'd seen it countless times over the years.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again.

"Ron, no, you didn't—" she began.

"Just . . . " He winced, looking at her hurt now. And without another word, he quickly moved through the portrait hole and vanished beyond it.

By the time Hermione saw him again, it was at dinner and Lavender was clung to his side, as though what happened between them in the common room was long forgotten. She threw them a contemptuous look and made her way to the farthest end of the table that she could.

Looking at him was too tempting, and seeing him with Lavender made her sick.

Harry continued to try and patch things up between them.

 _"Ron reckons I should just hang back after Potions this afternoon ..."_

 _"Oh, well, if Won-Won thinks that, you'd better do it," she said, flaring up at once. "After all, when has Won-Won's judgement ever been faulty?"_

 _"Hermione, can't you -"_

 _"No!" she said angrily, and stormed away, leaving Harry alone and ankle-deep in snow._

Ron, meanwhile, avoided Hermione at all costs in order to avoid looking guilty in front of Lavender, who continued to smother him. Unable to talk to Harry about the mess he'd made for himself, he sent an owl off to the twins, begging them for advice. The second Pigwidgeon returned, he knew that he should have owled Bill or Charlie instead.

 _To whom it may concern,_

 _Ronniekins, o_ _nly you would complain about the ability to nail two birds with one stone. In fact, we're pretty sure you're a lying git and we insist that if you plan on writing us again, you take Veritaserum. That might be a new product! Truth Quills! Slip your bird a Truth Quill and her love letters will tell you how she really feels!_

 _All right, little brother, you've appealed to our better natures. We have a gift for you, a book you actually might enjoy reading. Maybe we'll give it to you when you're all grown up. In the meantime, we've attached a detailed description on how to perform a Contraceptive Charm. Trust your big brothers, better read it from us in a letter than getting it face to face with Dad._

 _Fred and George_

"Prats." Ron scowled at the letter and, after tearing apart the section with the detailed charm—just in case—he tossed the parchment into the fireplace.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

 **March 1997**

Hermione had arrived late to breakfast hoping to avoid Ron, who was most likely going to have a very public birthday gift from Lavender. Ron was turning seventeen; of age in their world. Hermione grimaced at the thought of what all that could entail. She'd gone over and over as to whether or not get him something for his birthday and had decided against it in the end though she felt guilty about her decision. When neither Harry or Ron showed up, Hermione assumed that a small celebration had broken out in the common room. She decided to remain in the Great Hall to catch up on some light reading.

"Ron's not here?" Ginny asked as she arrived hours later. "I figured he'd stay in his room opening all his presents, but missing breakfast on his birthday? I'm surprised he's not down here requesting a special plate of birthday bacon."

"I'm betting that Harry had Dobby or Kreacher fetch him food from the kitchen." Hermione huffed, her nose stuck inside _Numerology and Grammatica_.

"Are the two of you ever going to get over yourselves?" Ginny asked as she reached across the table, snatching up several pieces of toast.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I'm over it. Whatever _it_ is or was."

"Bullshit." Ginny scoffed and then smiled sweetly as Hermione turned her eyes away from her book to look at Ginny reprovingly. "Yeah, yeah, language, language," the redhead said with a grin. "I'm serious, though. Watching Ron get all hot-headed over this little fight of yours was funny at first, but now it's just sad and pathetic. I'm not thrilled with his new permanent accessory either."

"What he does with Lavender is not my business," Hermione insisted.

Ginny sighed loudly. "I guess I wish _he'd_ had that attitude."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione looked up at her.

"Don't get mad," Ginny pleaded, looking immediately guilty. "But remember how you told me the story about when Krum left Hogwarts to go back to Durmstrang, and he tried to kiss you and ended up knocking his head into your nose? And then you felt bad, so you let him kiss you once but it was really awkward and horrible, and you said his breath smelled like fish?"

"Yes." Hermione frowned at the embarrassing memory. Certainly not one of her best moments. Her first letter from Viktor had in fact been an incredibly long apology for overstepping his bounds and making a right fool of himself. Hermione had only let him kiss her goodbye afterwards because she didn't want to make him feel worse. Her first kiss. It had been awful.

Ginny braced for impact. "I might have let it slip."

"Let it slip?" Hermione slowly set her book down.

"Ron caught Dean and me snogging after practice one day, and well . . . you know how he is," Ginny whinged. "I had to shut him up somehow. So I kind of threw it in his face that he was just jealous because Harry snogged Cho and you snogged Viktor."

"But I didn't snog Viktor!" Hermione's eyes widened, scandalised. "What we did barely qualified as a kiss!" She hated the fact that technically Cormac got further than Viktor had, and she didn't qualify _that_ as a proper kiss either. Hermione immediately remembered her latest run-in with Ron in the common room where she'd felt so close to kissing him. Already that felt more intimate than anything she'd ever done with Viktor or Cormac. "Ginny! You were never supposed to tell that story. You _know_ how Ron feels about Viktor." And suddenly so much made sense, though she still felt Ron was to blame. His jealous temper got the best of him, and if he'd acted like an adult and talked to her, they could have worked things out.

"Yeah, that was kinda the point. I didn't know he'd become an even bigger prat and go off and liplock with _Lav-Lav_."

"Well . . ." Hermione huffed. "It's still not my business. And if he went off and kissed the first girl who threw herself at him just because he's still insecure about Viktor, then he's just being childish." She recalled his words in their latest fight. Lavender didn't make him feel like a child, but Hermione clearly did. She exhaled sharply, attempting to put the guilt in her chest aside.

"Miss Granger, Miss Weasley?" Professor McGonagall approached the Gryffindor table, her robes billowing behind her as she moved with haste.

"Professor?" Hermione looked up quickly. "Is everything okay?"

"You both should come with me; there's been an accident." McGonagall's thin lips tightened together, a clear look of worry on her face.

"Harry?" Ginny stood up, a threat of serious panic on her face, something that did not go unnoticed by Hermione, though she too was too worried to care much at this juncture.

"Was it Vol—" Hermione began, thinking immediately of the worst. She also couldn't help but wonder if Harry had indeed caught Malfoy up to something and a fight broke out. There were too many possibilities to think of.

"I'm afraid not; it's Mr. Weasley." McGonagall gestured in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

"Ron?" Hermione stood up, her face reflecting the same note of panic that had previously been painted across Ginny's. "What happened?"

"It pains me to say . . . there has been another attempted attack within the school," McGonagall said with a frown. Hermione knew what she was talking about: Katie Bell. "It seems Mr. Weasley was accidentally . . . poisoned."

Without hearing how, where or why, Hermione ran for the Hospital Wing, leaving her bag and books behind on the Gryffindor table. The only sound she could hear was the echo of Ginny's shoes on the floor at her side as they ran as fast as they could.

 _Poisoned?! No, no, no._

"Harry!" Hermione screamed as they approached the door of the Hospital Wing, which was tightly shut and appeared to even be locked. "What happened? Where is he?" She felt the tears threatening to sting her eyes.

Harry looked worse for wear as he stood up from his seat outside the door. "He's fine. Or at least Madam Pomfrey _says_ he will be."

"What happened?!" Hermione yelled. "I want to see him!" And she made for the door, pushing against it to find it locked. She pulled her wand from her pocket to unlock it, but Harry stayed her hand.

"We're not allowed in, Hermione," he told her firmly. "Not yet."

"But what if he . . ." Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "Harry is he going to . . ." She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"He won't." Harry pulled her into a tight hug, and she immediately sobbed into his shoulder, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand.

"Was it Malfoy?" Ginny broke the silence and Harry let go of Hermione. He looked like he wanted to approach Ginny, hug her like he'd hugged Hermione, but the two of them stood awkwardly in front of one another, nervously crossing their arms in front of their chests. Ginny looked incredibly apprehensive, as she began to pace in front of the door.

Harry ran a nervous hand through his messy hair. "I don't know. Dumbledore doesn't think so. Ron accidentally ate some of the Chocolate Cauldrons that Romilda gave me before Christmas; the ones you suspected had love potion in them," he said and looked at Hermione. "He was well . . . right stupid actually."

Ginny shook her head. "Wait, McGonagall said he'd been poisoned, but it was a Love Potion?"

Harry winced. "Both, sort of. It's my fault, Ginny. I could have just locked him in the dormitory somehow, hoping the potion wore off. Probably should have even attempted to make an antidote myself." He looked down shamefully, clearly hoping that Hermione didn't mention the Half-Blood Prince's book. "But I took him to Slughorn to see if _he_ could fix it. And he did, and then offered us some mead to celebrate Ron's birthday."

"The mead? Poisoned?" Ginny asked, horrified. "Why would Slughorn—"

"He didn't know. He was terrified. Luckily I had given him that bezoar for the classwork." Harry glanced at Hermione almost as though he were waiting for her to scold him again for cheating. But she didn't. She just stood and stared silently at the door as if willing it to open.

"Madam Pomfrey says it saved his life. If we'd waited any longer—"

"Don't," Hermione begged him.

* * *

Hours later, Hermione had fallen asleep against the outer door of the Hospital Wing, still waiting for it to be opened. Harry had taken Ginny to the Great Hall to grab what little food they felt like eating, but Hermione had silently refused. In fact, she didn't move a muscle until she heard the loud cries of Mrs. Weasley coming down the corridor and meeting up with Harry and Ginny on her way.

"Oh Harry!" the older witch shrieked and pulled him into a hug, kissing his cheeks repeatedly and squeezing him tight. "Minerva just told us everything. You've saved him! You saved my boy! What would we do without you?" She then moved onto Ginny very quickly, and Hermione stood up to be embraced as well.

"They won't let us in," she whispered, breaking her silence.

"They'll let _me_ in," Mrs. Weasley growled fiercely and pounded on the door. After a few moments, Madam Pomfrey opened and scowled.

"I said no visito . . . oh, but his parents . . ." She opened the door. "Of course."

Mrs. Weasley pushed her way through the door followed by Mr. Weasley. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny made to move, but Madam Pomfrey just shook her head silently and closed the door again.

As she heard the lock click, Hermione fell back to the floor into a quiet sob. "He thinks I hate him."

"No he doesn't," Harry insisted, but Hermione caught a look that he quickly shared with Ginny.

"How could he . . . how could I have let this . . ." She shook her head and wiped her face quickly, trying to force the tears to stop pouring down her face.

" _We_ know better," Ginny admitted. "We know you don't hate him. Quite the opposite, right?" she asked. Hermione looked away and remained perfectly silent. "He's just blind and stupid."

Hermione frowned. "Don't say that."

"He _is_ stupid. He's _alive_ , Hermione, which means we can joke," Ginny promised. "He's stupid enough not to see how you look at him, and he's apparently stupid enough to eat food off of the floor thinking it's a bloody birthday gift." She smiled sadly at Harry, and he returned the gesture.

Hermione knew Ginny was just trying to be helpful, and deal with things in her own way, which looked to be the same way the twins would handle stressful moments. She couldn't fault her for that. But Hermione wouldn't let herself believe anything until she saw him with her own eyes.

* * *

An hour later, the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came out. Mrs. Weasley had clearly been crying. Her soft eyes were red and puffy, and Mr. Weasley kept patting her on the back consolingly. "You lot can go in. He's asleep. Not sure when he'll wake. We've got to go and see Dumbledore, hear everything from him and well . . . Order business," he whispered to the girls while Mrs. Weasley once again wrapped Harry into a grateful embrace.

It took Hermione a few extra moments to stand, as her feet had nearly fallen asleep on her. She went to move toward the door but stopped when she felt something tight squeeze her hand. She looked up, her own tired, red eyes meeting those of Mrs. Weasley and the two seemed to share a silent understanding. Mrs. Weasley clenched her hand tightly and smiled. "He'll be happy to see you when he wakes," she said quietly, and the words caused Hermione's eyes to water again and her lip to quiver. "Go, go, dear," Mrs. Weasley insisted, letting go of Hermione's hand.

She walked into the Hospital Wing and quickly approached the bed that Harry and Ginny stood at the foot of. Hermione ignored them and moved immediately to Ron's side, summoning a chair from across the room to sit in. He was so pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Hermione reached up and affectionately brushed his hair out off of his face, using the moment to touch his cheek and check to see if he was too hot or too cold. When he felt okay, save for being slightly clammy, Hermione withdrew her hand.

 _"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" said Fred as he and George arrived ten minutes later._

 _"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron's bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny._

 _"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," said Fred._

 _"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him -" said George._

 _"How exactly did it happen, Harry?"_

 _"... and then I got the bezoar down his throat, and his breathing eased up a bit. Slughorn ran for help; McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so ... keep taking Essence of Rue ..."_

 _"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low voice._

 _"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry._

Hermione sniffed quietly, her eyes not moving from Ron's face since the moment she sat down by his bed. She remembered last year when she'd woken in the same Hospital Wing to find him crumpled up on the bed beside her, having stayed up all night waiting for her to wake up. They'd shared stories of individual experiences in the Department of Mysteries and tales of their battle wounds. Now Ron was the only one who was injured, so why did Hermione feel like every part of her body was in pain? Especially a throbbing sensation in the pit of her chest.

The others continued discussing who might have possibly been behind the attack; everyone from Malfoy to Death Eaters to Voldemort himself was suspected. Hermione didn't care. She just watched slowly as Ron's chest moved up and down in a calm pattern. She remembered the feel of his chest as he'd pushed her against the wall, his heart had been beating hard against her. The look of hunger and life in his eyes as he stared into her soul. She wanted those eyes to open again. She wanted to feel his heartbeat again.

 _"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny reminded him. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."_

 _"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a bad head cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."_

 _"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them._

Hermione's mouth fell open slightly. Had he just . . .?

The room fell absolutely silent as they listened in to Ron mumbling in his sleep. Her eyes finally looked away from Ron to find Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George staring at her, all with knowing expressions on their faces. When Hermione blushed in response, George actually grinned.

"Pay up," he muttered to a disgruntled looking Fred, who slipped him a Galleon.

"Damn, you were right," Fred groaned quietly.

Hermione briefly narrowed her eyes at the two, not wanting to know the details of whatever bet they'd made.

She left the Hospital Wing with Harry and Hagrid, eager for sleep as she'd spent the entire day in a state of anxiety. The moment she walked into her dorm room and spotted Lavender sitting on her bed snuggled in what looked to be an old, well-worn and faded Chudley Cannon's shirt. Hermione scowled and turned away and went back through the door. There was no way she could sleep there tonight.

Making certain she had her prefect's badge on, Hermione slipped out of the portrait hole and retraced her steps back to the Hospital Wing. If she were to be stopped for any reason, she could lie and say that she was doing her prefect patrols.

Hermione opened the door to the infirmary and was instantly spotted by Madam Pomfrey.

"You can see him tomorrow dear."

"I was actually wondering . . . if I could maybe have some Draught of Peace." She looked down almost shamefully. "It's been a stressful day."

"Oh." Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Well, yes I can understand." And she disappeared behind a large door, reappearing a few moments later with a small vile. "Take this, and head straight to bed." Hermione took the vial in her hand and smiled kindly, swallowed the potion and thanked Madam Pomfrey with a nod before moving back toward the door.

She waited until she saw Madam Pomfrey go into her office and shut out the light before Hermione pulled out her wand, and very begrudgingly whisper, " _Muffliato_ ," while pointing it at the door. She'd never live it down if Harry or Ron found out that she'd used one of the Half-Blood Prince's spells after she'd lectured them about it all year long. But extreme times called for extreme measures.

Hermione moved toward the darkened bed where Ron silently slept, and she pulled back the chair she had been sitting in before leaving the Hospital Wing with Harry. Unable to stop herself this time with no one looking, Hermione reached a hand out and placed it gently on Ron's chest and let out a breath she'd been holding the moment she felt his heart beat hard against her palm. She left her hand there regardless, and quietly let the last of the few tears she'd been holding back escape over the rim of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Hermione whispered softly. "Please don't think I hate you. If you'd . . . if you'd died thinking that I hated you, I couldn't live with myself."

"Er-my-knee," Ron muttered quietly.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered.

He didn't respond, and Hermione sighed softly, removing her hand from his chest. Before she pulled it completely off, Ron's hand twitched and Hermione's eyes widened. "Ron?" she asked again.

"I don't . . . I don't think you hate me," he mumbled quietly, clearly having difficulty talking as his voice came out hoarse.

"I should get Madam Pomfrey," Hermione insisted, but Ron's eyes fluttered open, and he reached out, grabbing Hermione's hand to prevent her from leaving him.

"No, don't leave," he pleaded. "Do you think I hate you?"

"I don't know," Hermione whimpered quietly, holding his hand tightly.

"I could never hate you," he admitted quietly. "I'm a prat. I'm not good at telling people . . . how I feel," he admitted with a brief look of shame that Hermione interpreted as pain and she moved to stand up again only to be pulled back down. "Don't. 'Mione, I need you to know, I don't hate you."

Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip.

"Are we okay?" he asked, and Hermione burst into tears, nodding again.

"Good. Good." He exhaled and turned his head, closing his eyes to fall back asleep.

Hermione tried to pull her hand away from his, but he held it firmly and brought it upwards placing it palm down on his chest where he'd found it upon waking. "Ron?"

"Yeah?" he replied, eyes still closed.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, okay?"

"No promises," he muttered. "We're fighting a war here, woman. The good looking blokes always go first."

* * *

Her eyes blinked open slowly the next morning, her hand still resting on Ron's chest. She paused for a moment to watch and make sure that he was, in fact, still breathing. Hermione quietly pulled her hand away and stood up from the chair to stretch. A sharp pain hit her neck from the cramped position she had fallen asleep in. Realising that the spell she'd cast the night before could still be in effect, she peeked around the curtains and saw movement behind Madam Pomfrey's door. As quickly as possible, Hermione rushed across the room and slipped against the doors of the hospital wing. She pointed her wand at the office door, muttered, " _Finite_!" And slipped out of the Wing entirely.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" someone shouted behind her.

Hermione turned quickly, wide-eyed to see Lavender in front of her. "I was visiting Ron."

"Why?" Lavender seemed to be disgusted with the thought that anyone had been there before her.

"Because he's my friend."

Lavender scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. It made Hermione want to smack her hard in the head and see if she'd go cross-eyed. Clearly Ron's temper and easy slip into violence were rubbing off on her. "I _know_ what you're up to, Hermione," Lavender said, her nose in the air. "But you won't steal away my Won-Won."

Hermione breathed out sharply.

"First of all, his name is _Ron_ ," she said clearly, putting great emphasis on the 'R' sound and speaking extra slow to make sure it sunk in. "He _hates_ your stupid nickname; he's not a child." Hermione stood up a little taller as Lavender's eyes widened in rage. "Secondly, your relationship with him is _your_ business, and as long as he's my friend, I don't care who he dates," she lied. "And thirdly. I saw you wearing his Chudley Cannons shirt last night, and I _know_ you stole it because it's his favourite shirt and he is going to be furious when he finds out that you've stretched it out!" Hermione snapped and then, with a satisfied huff, walked away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

 **March 1997**

"He didn't even seem sorry that you'd been poisoned." Harry scowled as he told Ron that McLaggen had insisted he be Reserve Keeper while Ron was out of commission. Harry was enraged, more so by the fact that he had to use McLaggen if they had any chance of winning. All the other Keeper tryouts had been rubbish.

"Yeah well, I probably had that coming." Ron shrugged his shoulders a little. "There's no love lost between me and McLaggen. He might not remember it, but I broke his nose before Christmas," Ron said with still a lingering hint of pride.

Harry's eyes widened in shock, but a smile crept onto his face. "You what?!"

"Yeah, broke a few fingers doing it too. Hurt like hell." Ron laughed. "Fixed 'em up with that _Episky_ thing Tonks did to your face back when Malfoy clocked you," he said, sounding impressed with himself still. More over the breaking of McLaggen's nose than the magic he'd worked to fix his fingers.

"Why'd you break his nose? Don't get me wrong, I think we've all wanted to do it once or twice. In fact, you should have seen the furious look Hermione was giving him at the Christmas . . ." Harry trailed off, watching Ron's face suddenly turn dark. "Christmas. You broke his nose before Christmas?" Harry eyed him.

"Bloody prick deserved it," Ron growled under his breath.

"Hermione." Harry nodded with a slight understanding. "What'd he do?" he asked, and his eyes darkened to match Ron's.

"It's taken care of," Ron said. "And don't mention anything to her." He immediately remembered their fight about McLaggen where she'd started hitting him, and he'd grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. He remembered the feel of her body pressed against his, and the smell of her hair and the shine that came from her lips when she licked them and stared up at him. Once again, guilt washed over him attempting to remove the growing lust burning just beneath his skin.

 _"So how's McLaggen shaping up?" he asked Harry nervously trying to change the subject._

 _"I've told you," said Harry patiently, "he could be world-class and I wouldn't want to keep him. He keeps trying to tell everyone what to do; he thinks he could play every position better than the rest of us. I can't wait to be shot of him. And speaking of getting shot of people," Harry added, getting to his feet and picking up his Firebolt, "will you stop pretending to be asleep when Lavender comes to see you? She's driving me mad as well."_

 _"Oh," said Ron, looking sheepish. "Yeah. All right."_

 _"If you don't want to go out with her anymore, just tell her," said Harry._

 _"Yeah... well... it's not that easy, is it?" said Ron. He paused. "Hermione going to look in before the match?" he added casually._

 _"No, she's already gone down to the pitch with Ginny."_

 _"Oh," said Ron, looking rather glum. "Right. Well, good luck. Hope you hammer McLag-I mean Smith."_

 _"I'll try," said Harry, shouldering his broom. "See you after the match."_

A few minutes after Harry left the room, the door opened and Lavender walked in. Her bouncy blond curls following behind her as if she were skipping. Out of pure instinct, Ron fell back against his pillow in a panic and let out a loud snore.

"Won-Won?" Lavender whispered as she approached his bed. "Won-Won, love, wake up."

Ron continued to fake sleep.

"Ron!" she shouted, and the volume alone caused him to flinch and open his eyes. _Damn_. He blinked and looked up at her beaming down at him brightly. Her smile made him wince a little. "You're awake!" she shrieked with joy. "I'm so happy!" She leaned down to kiss him. When he pulled away from her, she stood up and looked positively heartbroken by his action.

"Sorry, Lav," Ron mumbled. "I just . . ." And he tried to think up an excuse. "I'm taking a lot of potions. I don't want to you know . . . get any on you." He almost rolled his eyes. He needed to learn how to lie better. Maybe he'd ask Fred and George to give him lessons over the summer. "They uh . . . make my breath stink."

"Oh, you're so thoughtful. Won-Won." Lavender grinned, swallowing his lie with ease. "I brought your birthday present! I didn't have a chance to give it to you before, and you've been asleep ever since," she said as though it had really put a strain on her to have to go about day-to-day without him beside her. Ron wasn't sure if he should be flattered or annoyed.

She smiled and handed him a small package. "Open it."

Immediately, he thought about the necklace that she'd given him for Christmas and he swallowed hard as he tore the wrapping paper off the bundle, saying a silent prayer in the hopes that it wasn't a matching bracelet or tiara. "It's . . ." He blinked, trying not to scowl.

"Isn't it lovely?" she asked as she pulled a maroon jumper from the torn wrappings and held it up so he could see it clearly. "I found it in a Muggle shop when I went home for Christmas. It's _very_ expensive," she said as though she were trying to emphasise how much he meant to her by adding a monetary value. "The ones you've already got look _dreadful_ , so I wanted to replace them."

Ron stared at the jumper. He hated everything about it. The colour, the cost, and the judgement that seemed to come along with it in the wrappings of a girlfriend who clearly knew nothing about him. He _hated_ maroon. How could she not know that? "Those _dreadful_ looking jumpers are made by my mum." He narrowed his eyes at her defensively.

She frowned. "Oh, well . . . I didn't mean to offend," she said and then rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for the _gift_ ," he managed to say through clenched teeth. Somehow she missed his tone and smiled in response, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Before he had a chance to turn away again, her lips found his and he felt her leaning over, pressing herself against him. It had been a few days since he'd been properly snogged, and despite the fact that he didn't even like her much anymore, Ron had become partially addicted to the sudden head rush he got when she kissed him deep.

Ginny would call him a typical man and make gagging noises. He wasn't proud of himself, but he _had_ almost died, after all. Couldn't he use a little cheering up? Lavender grinned against him, running her hands over his chest as he lay in the bed. Her hands quickly removed as she began to pull at her robes and Ron's eyes widened. Did she seriously think that just because he was in a bed and they seemed to be alone in the hospital wing that he'd . . .? Could he?

 _No._

Certainly he'd spent a good deal of time practising the Contraceptive Charm that Fred and George had sent him. He was hesitant at first, knowing who it had come from. The first time he tried it, he was sure it was a fifty-fifty shot that he'd end up hexing his bollocks off. But when nothing happened, he'd felt relief wash over him for more than one reason. But the more he practised, the more he thought about it. Lavender's increasing affection didn't help matters. It was like fighting a losing battle between his brain against the rest of his body.

 _"Please don't think I hate you. If you'd . . . if you'd died thinking that I hated you, I couldn't live with myself."_

Hermione's words resonated with him and gave him enough strength to push away from Lavender, who had stripped off her robes completely and was staring down at him with a grin, wearing nothing but a black, vaguely familiar t-shirt.

"What. The. Fuck." Ron's eyes widened as he looked down at her great big chest, which until recently he had come to appreciate with admirable interest, but was now in the process of stretching out his favourite Cannons shirt. His ears turned the same shade of maroon as the ugly jumper she'd bought him.

Lavender frowned. "Wonnie?"

"Where'd you get that?" He pointed at the shirt.

"Oh!" She blushed. "Well, I went up into your room and—"

"You went through my stuff and stole my shirt?!" Ron snapped. "Are you bloody mental?" He couldn't help it. She was wearing his _shirt_. His _favourite_ shirt. His favourite shirt that she _stole_.

"I thought you'd appreciate my need to feel close to you," Lavender said, looking incredibly offended.

Ron scowled. "You don't need to be close to me, Lavender. You spend every waking moment in my lap or attached to my arm." He wanted her to take his shirt off, but not here, not in front of him.

"Well you've never complained before!" she shrieked.

"I'm complaining _now_!" he shot back. Fighting with her wasn't nearly as much fun as fighting with Hermione. Lavender wasn't good at it, and despite how angry he felt, she looked like she was ready to cry and Ron was not in the mood to deal with an emotional and overly dramatic girlfriend. "You should go. I need to rest. I almost _died_ , if you've forgotten."

Lavender, seriously offended, picked up her robes and threw them back on. "I'm sure if Hermione Granger wore your shirt, you'd just _love_ it!" she shouted as she stormed out of the Hospital Wing, the doors slamming shut behind her.

"Hermione wouldn't steal my stuff," Ron muttered bitterly. Furious, he turned and opened the window above his bed as the sounds of the match down below could be heard. He chuckled softly, his mood lightening as he heard Luna commentating.

 _"And Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper," said Luna serenely, while both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins below in the crowd cheered and jeered. "I don't think that'll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse..."_

"Oh look! The clouds just above the Gryffindor's goal post look faintly reminiscent of a rabbit. I'm fond of rabbits. This weather is lovely. I'm glad Dementors haven't interrupted the game. Oh no, it looks like Zacharias Smith has lost the Quaffle again. He might be suffering from Loser's Lurgy."

Ron actually found himself laughing.

 _"Seventy-forty to Hufflepuff!" barked Professor McGonagall into Luna's megaphone._

 _"Is it, already?" said Luna vaguely. "Oh, look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats."_

Then there was a loud crack followed by shouts, screams and groans. Ron couldn't help but wonder what could have happened, but Luna had stopped commentating. Was the match over? He tried to sit up in order to hear better, but Luna didn't appear to be elaborating on what had happened. He groaned, wishing more than anything that he could have been there, down on the pitch with his team.

Less than a few minutes later, an unconscious Harry was levitated into the bed beside Ron. "What happened?" Ron shouted but was shushed by an irate Professor Mcgonagall.

"Bludger bat to the head," she grumbled. "He'll be fine once he's patched up."

A while later, Ginny arrived to check on Harry and to update Ron on the match and how McLaggen would never fly again if it was the last thing McGonagall did. Ron was pleased to hear, although the temptation to break his nose again was growing.

A short time after that, Harry groaned and awoke.

 _"Nice of you to drop in," said Ron, grinning._ "Got to say, mate, it's a great relief when one of us ends up in a hospital bed for something that's not life-threatening. Feels almost normal."

"Your sense of normal is disturbing." Harry winced as he touched his head.

Ron laughed. "I blame you for that."

"What the hell happened?"

Ron filled him in on everything Ginny had told him about the match and how McLaggen had smacked Harry's skull with the Bludger bat. The two quickly changed the subject to Malfoy and how Harry had almost been late to the match trying to find out what Draco was up to. Although initially Ron had agreed with Hermione when it came to Harry's theory about Draco being a Death Eater, now he couldn't help but be a little suspicious himself. Soon the sun had set and both boys were on the verge of sleep when Harry had the genius idea of having the house elves track Malfoy for him. A quick fight between Dobby and Kreacher broke out, which Ron and Harry had to break up, and after direct orders from Harry, both elves vanished to do their jobs—one more excited than the other.

"Bloody elves." Ron shook his head. "I'll never understand them."

"Like girls?" Harry chortled.

Ron eyed Harry with a smirk. "Hey, who in this room is single?"

"Who in this room would _rather_ be single?" Harry grinned and Ron reluctantly put his hand up in the air with a laugh.

"Did you see what she bought me for my birthday? Bloody maroon jumper!" He scoffed. "It's like she's never met me. Oh! And the mental girl broke into my trunk and _stole_ my favourite Cannons shirt!"

"She was in our room?" Harry asked.

"Apparently. Said she stole it to be closer to me. Mental, she is."

Harry laid back down on the bed. "So break up with her."

"It's not that easy." Ron sighed. "I've never broken up with someone before. I don't know how to go about it. She's _completely_ barking." He winced a little as he climbed back into bed. His strength clearly had not yet returned. "And she'll cry. You know how I hate it when they cry."

"Wish I could help," Harry said with a shrug. "But in my experience, all they do is yell or cry."

"I can deal with the yelling. It's easy just to yell back." Ron shrugged. "Kinda fun sometimes," he said and immediately thought of Hermione and their latest screaming match. "But when they cry . . ." He winced. He wasn't thinking about Lavender now at all. Not the potential of her sobbing when the time came to actually end their relationship. No, he was thinking of Hermione and how when he'd pressed himself against her and ran his hands through her hair, wanting to kiss her . . . she had been crying. He, of course, had been terrified that he'd hurt her and had backed away immediately apologising. He tried to forget about it all. They were good now. They'd resolved whatever problem there was when he'd first woken in the Hospital Wing.

Things were supposed to be better now.

Silence soon fell around them, but Ron couldn't sleep. He was trying to think of how to break up with Lavender. How to make things right with Hermione. Things were good with their friendship, but Ron now knew that he didn't want just her friendship. He'd made a big mistake with Lavender and somehow he had to fix everything with that before he had any chance for Hermione to see him as more than a friend. He also had to get himself well enough again as quickly as possible so he could play in the next Quidditch match.

"Hey, Harry?" Ron asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"It's touchy . . . I don't mean to pry, but . . . when you were in the graveyard with You-Know-Who . . . and you thought . . ." He paused for a long time as the words refused to leave his mouth.

"And I thought I was going to die?" Harry asked.

Ron frowned. "What'd you think about?"

"Like, what would have been my last thoughts?"

"I guess, yeah."

"How to survive mostly." Harry sighed. "But when I thought there was nothing left to do. No way out. I thought of my dad, and how he didn't die hiding. He faced Voldemort himself. He wasn't a coward, and I couldn't be either. I wanted to make him proud, even if I died doing it."

There was a long pause of silence as Ron processed this.

"What'd _you_ think of?" Harry asked.

"Didn't have much time to think did I?" Ron almost laughed. "I thought, 'wow, this is good mead. My throat itches. Huh, why's everything blurry and then . . .'" Ron left the sentence there.

"That it?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "Mostly. Everything else just flew by quickly. Lots of regrets I suppose."

"Hermione?" Harry asked after a full minute passed in silence.

"What about her?" Ron muttered, grateful that in the darkness Harry couldn't see the colour of his ears.

Harry chuckled. "You're my best mate, but you can be really thick sometimes."

Ron sat there, awake but quiet. He didn't respond and he just let Harry think he'd fallen asleep again. But Harry was right. In the split second it took for Ron to lose consciousness after drinking the poisoned mead, he'd felt panic. He knew something was wrong and that he was dying. He remembered thinking how he didn't want to die. How Hermione hated him and he couldn't die with her hating him. He couldn't die without her knowing that he . . . that he . . . and then darkness fell over him and Ron awoke later in a hospital bed, with Hermione crying at his side, her hand on his chest as she felt his heart beat strong.

* * *

Once out of the Hospital Wing, things almost went back to normal. Ron and Hermione were speaking again, and the only time tension seemed to rise was when Lavender appeared, which Ron tried as much as possible to minimise as he kept hiding from her, something that seemed to both annoy and amuse Hermione. When Lavender managed to catch Ron in a moment of visibility, they fought. Harry and Hermione would quickly leave to give the couple privacy and Ron would return to them later looking defeated, somehow worn out from arguing and yet still Lavender's boyfriend.

Days were filled with classes and Apparition lessons, and nights were filled with homework, Quidditch practice, and Harry trying to figure out how to get that memory from Slughorn. Ron was overworked on his essays, attempting to catch up on everything he missed while he was recovering.

 _"How do you spell 'belligerent'?" said Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. "It can't be B-U-M -"_

 _"No, it isn't," said Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her. "And 'augury' doesn't begin O-R-G either. What kind of quill are you using?"_

 _"It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Checking ones, but I think the charm must be wearing off."_

 _"Yes, it must," said Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, "because we were asked how we'd deal with Dementors, not 'Dugbogs', and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib' either."_

 _"Ah no!" said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"_

 _"It's okay, we can fix it," said Hermione, pulling the essay toward her and taking out her wand._

 _"I love you, Hermione," said Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily._

Time seemed to stop. He hadn't _meant_ to say it, or had he? He blinked a few times and continued rubbing his eyes, terrified to look up at her but when he did, the skin of her face was flushing. His chest swelled at the sight. He loved that colour on her.

 _Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, "Don't let Lavender hear you saying that."_

 _"I won't," said Ron into his hands. "Or maybe I will, then she'll ditch me."_

 _"Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?" asked Harry._

 _"You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?" said Ron. "You and Cho just -"_

 _"Sort of fell apart, yeah," said Harry._

 _"Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," said Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelt words with the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page. "But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid."_

* * *

Luckily, Ron kept avoiding Lavender for days, using Harry and Hermione as lookouts until he figured out how to break up with the girl. In between those moments, Ron focused on helping Harry with his plan, which now involved using the Felix Felicis to get the memory from Slughorn. The Felix Felicis Ron could have used to pass his Apparition test, which he had failed by the tiniest splinched eyebrow.

 _"Bad luck, mate, but you'll pass next time-we can take it together."_

 _"Yeah, I s'pose," said Ron grumpily. "But half an eyebrow! Like that matters!"_

 _"I know," said Hermione soothingly, "it does seem really harsh..."_

The three gathered together in the boys' dormitories to help Harry with his plan. He took the Felix Felicis, made a plan to head to Hagrid's, snatched up the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak, throwing the latter over him and headed down the stairs.

Ron was excited for Harry, hoping to hear all about the memory once his friend had returned from his mission. He thought about wishing him luck, but that would be a little pointless considering he'd just ingested a lucky potion.

 _Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and set off down the stairs, Ron and Hermione hurrying along behind him._ The three friends were smiling like old times, Harry well hidden beneath the cloak. Their eyes widened in shock when they were greeted at the bottom of the stairs with a loud shriek.

 _"What were you doing up there with her!"_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

 **April 1997**

 _"What were you doing up there with her!"_

Ron blinked and looked wide eyed at his girlfriend who stared daggers into Hermione. "Oh bugger," Ron mumbled. How was he going to explain this one without revealing Harry beneath the Invisibility Cloak? For all Lavender knew, Ron and Hermione had just been up in his room alone. He knew better, but the evidence against him was astounding.

"You!" Lavender growled and pointed at Hermione. "I knew you were a sneaky, little, jealous—"

"Jealous?!" Hermione snapped as if she'd been called something much worse. "How dare—"

"How dare _I_?!" Lavender screamed. "How dare _you_! You're the one trying to steal my boyfriend!"

"Wait just a damn minute, Lavender." Ron held his hands up in supplication and tried to step between the girls. Hermione, he noticed, had already reached for her wand defensively. Lavender wouldn't stand a chance if an actual duel broke out between the two. He remembered watching them both in the D.A. the prior year, and Lavender might as well surrender before something truly unfortunate happened. "Nothing was going on with Hermione and me," he told her. "We were up in my room talking. As _friends_. I _can_ have friends you know."

"Not _her_!"

Ron blinked, staring at her as though he'd heard wrong. "Excuse me?"

"I'm leaving," Hermione stated firmly and headed in the direction of the girls' dormitories, which was now unfortunately blocked by Ginny and Dean, who had started a fight of their own on the other side of the common room. Hermione stood between the two couples, awkwardly not knowing where she should go to give them all their privacy. She strongly wished that she'd been beneath the Invisibility Cloak with Harry, who, for all she knew, was now gone.

"What do you mean, _not her_?" Ron scowled at Lavender. "She's been my friend since first year! My _best_ friend!" he added firmly. "You can't tell me who I can and can't be friends with." His temper was rising, and he thought that if Lavender had been wearing his Cannons shirt again, he could break up with her very easily. As it was, she looked like she was on the verge of tears and his confidence was wavering.

"Not _her_!" Lavender screamed again, stomping her foot. Ron glanced sideways and caught Hermione rolling her eyes and he almost laughed. "I don't care. I say not her. You have to choose!" Lavender's eyes were fierce. "Me or Hermione." She folded her arms across her chest. "Because if you think that I'm going to just stand around and let you just go on and—"

"Hermione."

Hermione's eyes turned and looked as Ron called her name.

Lavender blinked. "What?"

"Hermione. You said to choose, I choose Hermione," Ron said firmly. "If you want to break up with me because of who I'm friends with, then that's _your_ problem." He stared into Lavender's eyes, his resolve solid. "Are we done here?" he asked as though the words meant nothing coming out of his mouth. Suddenly, he found it incredibly easy to end his relationship with the girl. She'd crossed a line.

"Fine!" Lavender screamed. "I'm . . . . I'm _done_ with you! You'll regret this Ron Weasley!" She bolted toward the girls dormitories, pushing Ginny and Dean aside to let her through as she cried all the way up the stairs.

"I don't think I'm going to regret it _that_ much." Ron rubbed the back of his neck, stressed over the fighting, but relieved that it was over.

Hermione chuckled nervously. " _I_ am."

Ron smiled. "Yeah? Why's that?"

" _I_ have to _live_ with her still." Hermione gestured to the stairs, and the two of them both laughed awkwardly. The moment was interrupted by Dean, who moved past Ron and Hermione and rushed up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Ginny stood, her back to them, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oi!" Ron called out to his sister. "That git make you cry?" he asked, his temper rising back up to a level higher than it was when he'd been arguing—and ultimately breaking up with—Lavender.

Ginny spun and looked at him for a split second before rolling her eyes. "What? No, prat," she said with a scoff. "He didn't make me cry. I made him . . . well, we've split up," she quietly admitted.

"What?" Ron blinked, caught off guard. "I mean, are you okay? Do I need to . . " He gestured toward the boys' dorms.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare. _I_ split with him, and he didn't really do anything wrong. Just . . ." She made and irritable noise in her throat and then threw herself down onto a couch. "He's always doing stupid things like trying to help me through the portrait hole. And did you know he tried to block a Bludger for me the last time we played?" She looked infuriated. "He's a bloody Chaser! He had the Quaffle in his hands and lost it cause he was trying to protect _me_!"

Ron couldn't decide what side to be on at the moment. Dean was doing exactly what Ron wanted someone to do with Ginny: treat her right, protect her. But if _anyone_ didn't need protecting it was Ginny. Suddenly, Ron found himself offended on her behalf. "My sister's not weak! Stupid git," he mumbled and then sat down beside Ginny. "I just split with Lavender."

"Yeah, I kinda overheard. Bad luck for both of us I guess."

Hermione snorted, and both redheads looked at her. "I'd call it _good_ luck."

"Good luck?" Ginny eyed her.

"Sorry, I mean . . . well, never mind."

"Yeah, _good_ luck," Ron said with a little grin and his eyes met Hermione's, the two of them chuckling a little as they wondered if perhaps some of Harry's Felix Felicis had rubbed off on the rest of them. "All right, I'm going off to bed. Still have Snape's essay to finish. Don't want to be down here in case Lavender comes back." He put his hand on Ginny's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Proud of you," he admitted. "Just pick someone . . . less . . . I dunno, someone better next time, yeah?"

"I will keep you informed big brother." Ginny rolled her eyes but smiled. "G'night."

"Night." Ron turned and smiled sweetly at Hermione before moving up the stairs.

The second that the door was heard shutting behind him, Ginny turned on Hermione. "All right, what happened?" she asked, a greedy tone to her voice. "I couldn't hear everything because Dean was yelling . . . okay, _I_ was yelling. But did I hear right? Ron picked _you_ over Lavender?"

"What? No, not like that." Hermione blushed and sat down beside Ginny. "Lavender was just very controlling. She didn't like the fact that Ron and I are friends."

"Speaking of which, when _did_ you become friends again?" Ginny asked.

Hermione frowned. "You know the answer to that."

"Near death experiences really bring everyone together, don't they?" Ginny smiled. "You'd think Harry would have more mates."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny, ignoring this. "Speaking of bringing people together," she whispered. "I know you've just split with Dean, but as your friend I feel it's my obligation to let you know that well . . ." She hesitated. "I think Harry's interested in you."

"Oh, I know," Ginny said casually as she picked at her nails, what little polish she ever wore was badly chipped, and she was scratching away the remainder of it. "I'm not blind. I see how he looks at me now."

Hermione was taken aback. "You know? How . . . how long?"

Ginny shrugged. "He was just as wound up about me snogging Dean as Ron was. When Ron and I drew wands on each other, Harry stepped in to defend _me_. Dead giveaway, and also a bit annoying," she said with a smirk. "Plus, he's been short with Dean for months now. Quidditch practice has been awkward. Harry's terrible at hiding things. Do Muggles even _teach_ you how to lie growing up?"

"So, what're you going to do?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny looked up. "Weren't _you_ the one who told me to move on from Harry? I took your advice. Wish you'd have taken mine. I could have done without the last few months of listening to _Won-Won_ and _Lav-Lav_."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "What advice was that?"

"When I told you to snog my brother and get it over with," Ginny said, a little too loudly for Hermione, who blushed and immediately shushed Ginny in reply. Ginny only responded by laughing. "The two of you are ridiculous. I say wait until we win the Quidditch Cup again. Kiss him right in front of everyone. Best day of his life. That'd shut him up for a while."

Hermione felt her skin flush. She couldn't possibly kiss Ron for the first time in front of other people. She couldn't even imagine a situation where she would make the first move at all. She'd very likely need to be facing certain death to will her to such heights. Besides, he'd _just_ split with Lavender and made it pretty clear that Hermione was just a friend. "Never you mind me," Hermione muttered quietly. "What about you and Harry?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, her tone suddenly serious. "You know how I am about him."

Hermione smiled sadly. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

 _"We split up,"_ Ron told Harry out of the corner of his mouth, _"Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously, she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us."_

After going to bed the previous night, Ron had let his mind wander on what Lavender could have possibly thought had occurred upstairs in his dorm, alone with Hermione. He wondered what he would have done had they been alone, and he single. Would he have had the courage to finally admit how he felt about her? Unlikely, but the fantasy in which he wasn't a bit of a coward was freeing.

 _"Ah,"_ said Harry, looking somewhat grateful. _"Well, you don't mind it's over, do you?"_

 _"No," Ron admitted. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it."_

 _"Coward," said Hermione, though she looked amused. "Well, it was a bad night for romance all around. Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry."_

 _"How come?"_

 _"Oh, something really silly... she said he was always trying to help her through the portrait hole like she couldn't climb in herself... but they've been a bit rocky for ages."_

 _"Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" said Hermione._

 _"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly._

 _"The Quidditch team," said Hermione. "If Ginny and Dean aren't speaking..."_

 _"Oh-oh yeah," said Harry._

* * *

 **May 1997**

There was more to think about than relationships, though. Harry had returned to inform Ron and Hermione about the _real_ memory of Slughorn's time with Tom Riddle, the meeting with Dumbledore and the purposes of a Horcrux, not to mention the fact that You-Know-Who probably had at least _six_ of them. The prospect of ending the war anytime soon seemed impossible.

Ron couldn't imagine what was going to happen when they finally left Hogwarts. Would the Ministry put together an army? Would Ron join up? Of course he would, but the thought of leaving anyone behind was terrifying. Maybe the Order would finally let them in. They'd be out of school in just over a year, and could finally help out. Ron felt useless when it came to fighting. He'd stuck by Harry this whole time knowing that there had to be something he could do to help the cause, but so far since the return of You-Know-Who, the only thing Ron had really done was land himself in the Hospital Wing—twice.

"You're thinking hard," Hermione pointed out as the two of them sat in the common room looking over Ron's Charms homework. He'd yet been able to turn his glass of vinegar into wine, but at least the colour was looking less brown and more purple.

Ron shrugged. "Concentrating."

Hermione laughed. "Liar. I can tell when you're concentrating on spells and when you're off in your own head." She pointed her wand at the vinegar, which immediately turned to wine and then back into vinegar. "Try again."

Ron sighed and tossed his wand onto the table in front of him. "Useless."

"The spell is not useless. It's helpful when needing to change properties of liquids," she said reprovingly.

"Not the spell, _me_ ," Ron said with a heavy frown. "Harry's got to . . " He paused and looked around the room to make sure they were still alone. "Destroy a bunch of Horcruxes with Dumbledore, Malfoy's up to something, if you believe what Harry says, there are Death Eaters out there attacking people—not to mention werewolves—and I'm stuck here doing nothing but changing vinegar into wine. And I can't even do _that_."

"You're too hard on yourself. You're not useless. Harry needs you. He needs support, friendship . . ."

"A good snog wouldn't hurt him either," Ron said with a laugh.

Hermione just stared at him for a long moment before admitting, "Maybe. But _I'm_ not going to do it," she added with a small laugh.

"Good," Ron said firmly. The image of Harry and Hermione in an intimate embrace came into his head too quickly, and he shook his head trying to get rid of it.

"You know Ginny still fancies him," Hermione blurted out.

"What? Oh for Merlin's sake . . ." Ron groaned.

"I'm just saying, you told her before that you'd rather her pick Harry over Michael and Dean. And we both want Harry to be happy."

Ron scowled. "I don't want him _that_ happy. Can we just concentrate on this?" he on asked, pointing his wand at the glass of vinegar. "And pretend that my sister is still ten-years-old and far away at the Burrow, where the only person to ever pay her any attention is Mum?"

"Fine," Hermione relented. "You're going to have to get over it eventually."

Ron laughed. "What about my personality has ever led you to believe I'm capable of that kind of change?"

"You'd be surprised." She smiled at him and, for a lingering moment, the two stared at one another in awkward silence before Ron cleared his throat and broke contact first.

"Lemme just go upstairs. I'm starved, and I've got a stash of Chocolate Frogs leftover from my birthday."

"That was two months ago," she said, staring after him. "I thought any birthday treats would be gone that day."

"Well," Ron hesitated to bring it up. "After the Cauldron Cakes that were supposed to be for Harry . . . I've kind of been letting Neville take a bite out of every package I own before I even bother with it."

"That's awful!" Hermione scolded. "He's not your personal taste tester!"

"He's not been complaining." Ron grinned down at her. "So you want anything or not?"

"Any Fizzing Whizbees?" she hesitantly asked.

"I'll check."

Suddenly, the door to the common room burst open, and Harry stumbled through it, soaking wet. Hermione shrieked at the sight of him as he rushed up to Ron, who was standing at the stairs, eyes wide.

 _"Where've you-? Why are you soaking... is that blood?" Ron looked horrified._

 _"I need your book," Harry panted. "Your Potions book. Quick... give it to me..."_

 _"But what about the Half-Blood -"_

 _"I'll explain later!"_

Ron rushed down the stairs and pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making from his bag and handed it to Harry, who sprinted off back out of the common room.

Hermione and Ron immediately went in search of their friend but found no sign of him with the exception of a few wet footprints in the floor. Screaming could be heard floors down, however, and soon someone rushed up the stairs.

Ginny arrived in front of Ron and Hermione looking terrified. "Did you hear what they're saying?"

"What's happened?" Hermione quickly asked her.

"They're saying that Harry tried to kill Malfoy!" The words came tumbling out, and Ginny's face paled, which made her look quite ill as her skin contrasted so greatly against her dark red hair.

Hermione gasped. "That's not . . . Harry would never!"

Ron didn't look so convinced.

An hour later, Harry returned to the common room where Hermione, Ron and Ginny were waiting for him. They'd ambushed him quickly, begging to find out what happened and, though exhausted, Harry confessed that he'd caught Malfoy in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle planning something, and that when he was found, Malfoy had tried to duel him—even going so far as trying to use the Cruciatus Curse on him. Reluctantly, Harry explained that he'd used Sectumsempra, which had the effect of slicing Malfoy open like a blade.

Hermione covered her mouth, horrified. "Harry you didn't!"

Harry frowned. "He'll be fine."

 _"I won't say 'I told you so'," said Hermione, an hour later in the common room._

 _"Leave it, Hermione," said Ron angrily._

 _"I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person," Hermione said, evidently unable to stop herself. "And I was right, wasn't I."_

 _"No, I don't think you were," said Harry stubbornly. "By the way," he turned and looked at Ginny. "You'll be playing Seeker in the next match. Snape's given me detention every Saturday for the rest of the term."_

Ginny and Ron both sat up straighter, suddenly more alert than they'd been when Harry had told them that he'd almost accidentally killed Malfoy. Neither said anything, too shocked by the fact that they could now lose the Quidditch Cup without Harry there as Seeker or Captain. Hermione took the silence as a chance to find out if Harry was really going to go back and get the book from the Room of Requirement. The two began arguing, Hermione trying to make him see reason.

 _"Give it a rest, Hermione!" said Ginny, and Harry was so amazed, so grateful, he looked up. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"_

 _"Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!" said Hermione, clearly stung. "But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match -"_

 _"Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," snapped Ginny, "you'll only embarrass yourself."_

Harry and Ron stared. Hermione and Ginny, who had always got on very well, were now sitting with their arms folded, glaring in opposite directions. Ron looked nervously at Harry, then snatched up a book at random and hid behind it.

* * *

Hermione had gone to bed in silence before any of the others and woke before them too. Ginny and Harry came down their individual stairs and rushed off to breakfast without looking at Hermione, who was sitting by the window, her nose stuck in a book. By the time Ron made his way down the stairs, she was halfway through it.

"Hermione?" he called out to her. "We've talked about this. You need to eat before you study."

She didn't reply.

"What're you . . ?" He approached her with a curious look. "Is that . . .? Are you reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as he moved to snatch it from her grasp.

Hermione quickly pulled the book away and scowled down at him. "Go away," she instructed calmly.

Ron only laughed. "Want me to bring you back a treacle tart?" he asked her as he made his way to the portrait hole.

"Thank you," was all she replied with, though the second he closed the door behind him, she smiled.

* * *

By the time the actual match came around, Hermione could easily talk about the game with anyone who questioned her. And once Ginny had found out that Hermione had been researching, she did just that. Hermione could recount word for word the origin of the sport, not to mention nearly every one of the seven hundred Quidditch fouls—give or take fifty or so because the entire list had never been made public.

Ginny rolled her eyes and apologised to Hermione for snapping at her.

Hermione took her place in the stands and smiled up at Ron, who waved at her. She couldn't help but notice when Lavender Brown, a few rows ahead, turned and scowled at her. Hermione only smiled smugly at the girl in reply. Ron didn't seem as nervous as he normally did, which brought serious relief to Hermione's face—because _she_ was nervous. Not thinking that he'd do poorly, but if Gryffindor lost, Harry would be beside himself.

Luckily she didn't have to worry about much. Ron was a hero flying in front of the goals. He'd let in a few, but it barely looked like the Ravenclaw Keeper had even showed up by comparison. Every few minutes, the Ravenclaw Captain would fly over and yell at him.

Hermione could see Ginny flying straight at the ground her hand extended out as the snitch flew right in front of her. "Get it, get it," Hermione mumbled, unable to hear Luna's commentary, which was being drowned out by Professor McGonagall, who was screaming into the microphone herself.

Ginny, performing what Hermione thought to be a Wronski Feint, something that she read about the night before, and had seen at least twice already—once by Viktor Krum at the Quidditch World Cup, and once by Harry there on that very pitch. She bit her lip in anticipation as Ginny's hand closed around the Snitch and she pulled up on her broomstick. Cho Chang, who had been following closely behind her, crashed into the ground and rolled away from her broom a good twenty feet.

The stands erupted into a mass of cheers and Hermione rushed down through the crowd as quickly as possible, seeking out Ginny and Ron. Ginny was already being hoisted up onto the shoulders of her teammates, Snitch in one hand, a large silver Cup in the other.

Hermione beamed excitedly at her friend when she suddenly felt herself lifted off the ground.

Ron picked her up into his arms and spun her around as if she didn't weigh a thing.

Hermione laughed and hugged him tightly before he put her down.

"Can you believe it?!" he yelled excitedly.

Hermione grinned proudly. "Yes, yes I can."

"No Felix Felicis either," he added with a small smirk.

"I never doubted you." She reached over and took hold of his broomstick, carrying it for him as they walked together back toward the changing rooms, the deafening sound of Gryffindors screaming ringing in their ears.

Once back in the common room, the celebration continued. Butterbeer went all around, and Hermione even turned a blind eye when she caught Seamus with a bottle of firewhisky. Though, when he wasn't looking, she waved her wand and changed the contents of it to vinegar.

Ron caught her in action, and she blushed as he laughed. "Busted."

"I could have made a scene you know; handed out detentions," Hermione said. "I'm very well able. Prefect and all."

"Nah," Ron said, shaking his head as he offered her a butterbeer. "This'll be funnier."

Seamus poured out shots to multiple people; Ron, Hermione and Ginny all declined. Then the three of them stood back and watched with great interest as Seamus, Dean, Neville, and—to Hermione and Ron's great joy—both Lavender and Cormac McLaggen, threw the shots back into their throats, followed by a loud, collective gagging sound.

Ron beamed. "This could be the greatest moment of my life."

"I would normally say you set a low bar," Hermione laughed as Lavender turned and began screaming at Cormac for spitting his drink on her, "but I'm certainly not one to judge right now."

The door to the common room opened, and Harry stepped through.

 _"We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!"_ Ron jumped up in the air and rushed over to him, snatching up the silver Cup from a nearby table and thrusting it toward Harry who touched it once to make sure it was real, but refused to take it for some noble reason, like he hadn't been on the team when they'd won it—never mind that he was Captain.

Hermione smiled sweetly at Harry who looked like he really needed this win, even if it wasn't for himself. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, as red hair flew past her and Ron. Ginny jumped, wrapping her arms around Harry, and Hermione's smile brightened as she saw the look of surprise followed by relief on Harry's face.

But then . . .

The expression on his face changed to pure determination and, suddenly, Harry was kissing Ginny.

The room fell instantly silent save for Seamus, who let out a loud wolf whistle. Instinctively, Hermione reached a hand out and took gentle hold of Ron's wrist as he stared at his best friend kissing his sister with wide, shocked eyes.

When they finally broke apart, Harry's eyes immediately found Ron's. Hermione was beaming, but just in case, she gave Ron's wrist a gentle squeeze and was surprised to find that his hand turned and reached for hers, lacing their fingers together as he stared at Harry, as if sizing him up.

Ron gave a tiny jerk of his head as he locked eyes with Harry before shrugging. _"Well, if you must."_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

* * *

 **June 1997**

The weeks that followed the Quidditch match were very close to blissful. Ron had given his permission for Harry to date Ginny—not that Ginny apparently needed or wanted it—and both his sister and best friend appeared to be happier than Ron had ever seen them. How could he fault Harry this happiness after all that he'd been through? The idea of Harry sneaking around the grounds alone with Ginny caused Ron's stomach to churn a little, but Hermione was always right there to take his mind off of them.

He'd taken her hand, laced his fingers with hers in the middle of a crowded common room, but somehow he'd lost all nerve to do anything further than that. The memory of his massive mistake with Lavender was still too fresh, and he was resolved not to make a damned fool of himself when it came to Hermione. He'd wait for her; she was worth it, and he felt that he wouldn't have to wait long as there suddenly seemed to be an unspoken agreement between the two of them. They weren't together _officially_ , but they were certainly unavailable to anyone else, and the whole school seemed to know it.

 _"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Ginny, as she sat on the common-room floor, leaning against Harry's legs and reading the Daily Prophet. "Three Dementor attacks in a week and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it's true you've got a Hippogriff tattooed across your chest."_

Ron roared with laughter, beaming as Hermione did the same, leaning against his shoulder as she looked over a book in her hands. Every so often, he was tempted to put his arm around her shoulders but instead found only the courage to affectionately brush her hair from of her face, which would cause her to turn and smile at him. That smile lit him up from deep within, almost enough to make him forget that Ginny was reading the _Daily Prophet_ and talking about dementors.

 _"What did you tell her?"_

 _"I told her it's a Hungarian Horntail," said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. "Much more macho."_

 _"Thanks," said Harry, grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's got?"_

 _"A Pygmy Puff, but I didn't say where."_

 _Ron scowled as Hermione rolled around laughing._

 _"Watch it," he said, pointing warningly at Harry and Ginny. "Just because I've given my permission doesn't mean I can't withdraw it-"_

 _"'Your permission' ", scoffed Ginny. "Since when did you give me permission to do anything? Anyway, you said yourself you'd rather it was Harry than Michael or Dean."_

 _"Yeah, I would," said Ron grudgingly. "And just as long as you don't start snogging each other in public-"_

 _"You filthy hypocrite! What about you and Lavender, thrashing around like a pair of eels all over the place?" demanded Ginny._

"Can't you shut her up?" Ron looked at Harry as he gestured to his sister.

Harry grinned. "I wouldn't even dare to try."

"He's smart," Ginny said with a smirk.

Ron laughed. "What good are you then?"

"Well, I've been told before, that I'm the Chosen One." Harry shrugged and then winced as Ginny turned and punched him lightly in the shoulder, grumbling something about his inflated ego.

* * *

Late one evening, while Harry was off at a meeting with Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione sat in the common room together, a copy of _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ between them on the table. Both were laughing, sitting on the couch, each with a wand in hand.

"No, try this." Hermione looked at the open book and then gestured carefully, pointing her wand at her own face. Instantly, her brown eyes turned a pale shade of blue but unfortunately, her eyebrows turned blue as well. This time, instead of making fun of her Ron smiled and then held up the small mirror that she had brought down from her room. Hermione laughed loudly, and then tapped her wand to her face, and both eyebrows and eyes returned to normal.

"How about this?" Ron followed the same motions, pointing his wand at his face and then waiting a few seconds.

Hermione stared hard into his eyes. "I don't see anything."

"My eyes should be blue," Ron said with a teasing grin.

Hermione stared at him, her lip curling into a smirk. "Your eyes are _always_ blue."

"Tada!"

They both laughed.

"Fine, how about I change my hair black like Harry's," Ron suggested, looking at the book and then reaching his wand up to touch his head.

Hermione grasped out and took his wrist quickly in hand. "Don't you dare," she insisted loudly. "I . . . I like your hair as it is." She smiled softly, her face flushing.

Ron felt his ears turn pink. "You _like_ this?" He looked at her, disbelieving what he'd heard. "You're mental, you are." He shook his head and attempted to change his hair colour once more.

Hermione reached up and stopped him again. "I'm telling you, don't," she argued. "Your hair is . . . lovely." She blushed and looked away.

"It's the same hair as the rest of my family." Ron shrugged, not understanding what was so special about his hair.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not. Yours is lighter than Ginny's but darker than Fred and George's." She looked up at him and reached forward, touching the locks of hair that curled around the back of his ears. Ron shivered. "In the sun you get these golden highlights, just here," she said and gestured to the strands in her fingers.

Caught up in the moment, Hermione was brought back to reality when she heard Ron breathe out sharply. Her eyes drew to his face where his mouth was open, but his eyes were closed. She pulled her hand away quickly and swallowed hard. "Much better than this mess," she said and then gestured to her own hair. "I've tried transfiguring it before. Never sticks." She flipped through the book for a few moments, looking for a new spell to try.

"I _like_ your hair," Ron whispered quietly, opening his eyes.

Hermione turned to face him and noticed that he'd moved closer to her. "What?"

"I said I like your hair." He reached a hand up and tucked a wild curl behind her ear, and then moved his fingers behind her head, running her locks through them. "It's soft," he said and smiled crookedly, a look in his eyes as though he'd just discovered her.

Hermione breathed in as he touched her, her eyes rolling backwards as she closed them. A warmth spread down her neck and across her chest.

"It's quite . . . quite warm in here," she muttered nervously.

Without saying a word, Ron pointed his wand at the fireplace, looked away from Hermione and concentrated hard. Suddenly, the fire lowered itself from bright flames to mere embers.

Hermione's eyes followed his and she smiled brightly. "Ron! That was superb non-verbal magic!" She turned back to offer him more praise and found him staring at her. Without the burning fire, the room was actually quite dark, but she could see what little light was left reflected in his eyes.

Ron didn't speak as he looked at her. His chest was heaving sharply; Hermione could hear every breath he took. His hand moved from the back of her head to gently cup beneath her ear, his thumb running carefully over the outline of her jaw as his eyes drew themselves to her lips. Instinctively, she licked them, and he parted his in response.

Time itself seemed to stop as he looked at her, his heart threatening to break out of his chest. He hadn't meant to get so close to her, but he felt drawn to her like a magnet; as though they were connected by a string and someone was pulling hard from her side, propelling him forward. As he touched her jaw, his eyes drawn to her lips, he couldn't help but wonder what she felt like— _tasted_ like. Lavender had barely given him a chance to breathe let alone focus on the details of their snogging, and he certainly didn't feel with her the same kind of tension that was building up inside of him now. His skin was on fire, and somehow he knew that the second he pressed his lips against Hermione's, the flames would overtake him completely. The burning that began in his chest moved south the moment he realised just how dark it was in the room, just how alone they were. His stare intensified, his gaze moving back to hers, and he thought he heard her whimper softly as their stares connected.

"Hermione," he breathed her name out on an exhale, the only word his brain could form though he was desperate to get more out. He wanted to know how she felt. He wanted to ask her permission. He had just gotten her back as a friend, and everything inside of him was begging him to risk it all, throw caution to the wind just for single, solitary moment of what he was sure would be absolute perfected bliss.

Ron closed his eyes, unable to look at her any longer without his chest hurting. Unable to support himself on the edge of the couch any longer, he moved his free hand down and accidentally placed it on top of her thigh. He opened his eyes wide in reaction but saw that she had closed her own and put her hand on top of his, keeping his palm pressed against her leg. Ron's breath hitched in his throat, and he pressed his forehead against hers as he had the moment they'd had their worst fight, right here in the same room after Hermione had discovered Ron's attack on McLaggen.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, and he could feel her breath on his face, could smell the lingering scent of sugar on her lips. He wondered if she would taste like Fizzing Whizbees, and the thought made him smile. Her whispering his name made him smile. Every bloody thing she did made him smile, made him mad for her, made him desperately, painfully hungry for her.

The portrait door burst open loudly, and both of them separated with loud gasps. Instinctively, Hermione pointed her wand toward the fireplace that then reignited, lighting up the room with a roar. Her eyes flew back to Ron, who was red in the face and had beads of sweat on his forehead. They both turned back to see Harry climb through, a panicked look on his face.

 _'What does Dumbledore want?' Hermione said at once. 'Harry, are you okay?' she added anxiously._

 _"I'm fine,"_ said Harry shortly, racing past them. He dashed up the stairs and then back down and into the common room, skidding to a halt where Ron and Hermione sat, looking stunned. The Marauders Map and a pair of socks in his hands _. "I haven't got much time," Harry panted, "Dumbledore thinks I'm getting my Invisibility Cloak. Listen ..."_

 _Quickly he told them where he was going, and why. He did not pause either for Hermione's gasps of horror or for Ron's urgent questions; they could work out the finer details for themselves later._

 _"... so you see what this means?" Harry finished at a gallop. "Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another clear shot at whatever he's up to. No, listen to me!" he hissed angrily, as both Ron and Hermione showed every sign of interrupting. "I know it was Malfoy celebrating in the Room of Requirement. Here-" He shoved the Marauder's Map into Hermione's hand. "You've got to watch him, and you've got to watch Snape, too. Use anyone else who you can rustle up from the DA. Hermione, those contact Galleons will still work, right? Dumbledore says he's put extra protection in the school, but if Snape's involved, he'll know what Dumbledore's protection is, and how to avoid it-but he won't be expecting you lot to be on the watch, will he?"_

 _"Harry-" began Hermione, her eyes huge with fear._

 _"I haven't got time to argue," said Harry curtly. "Take this as well-" He thrust the socks into Ron's hands._

 _"Thanks," said Ron. "Er-why do I need socks?"_

 _"You need what's wrapped in them; it's the Felix Felicis. Share it between yourselves and Ginny too. Say goodbye to her from me. I'd better go, Dumbledore's waiting-"_

 _"No!" said Hermione, as Ron unwrapped the tiny little bottle of golden potion, looking awestruck. "We don't want it, you take it, who knows what you're going to be facing?"_

 _"I'Il be fine, I'll be with Dumbledore," said Harry. "I want to know you lot are okay ... don't look like that, Hermione, I'll see you later."_

Hermione frowned looking at Ron as Harry left. "I have a really bad feeling about this."

Ron sighed, feeling the same way. "You usually do. Alert the D.A. I'll run and find Ginny. She's going to be furious that he left like that." If anything happened to Harry while he was gone, Ginny would never let Ron forget it.

By the time Ron had found Ginny, Hermione had sent a message to the D.A. Instead of meeting in the Room of Requirement, however, she had asked them all to meet them outside the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. The three Gryffindors ran up the stairs, stopping just beside the statue of Boris the Bewildered. "Let's take this now before anyone else shows up," Hermione said as she pulled the bottle of Felix Felicis out of her pocket and handed it first to Ron and then to Ginny before she took a small gulp of it herself.

"Anyone feel different?" she asked.

"Yeah, kind of," Ron said as the potion began to tingle in the back of his brain, prompting ideas. "You've got to go and watch Snape," he said and looked at Hermione, pointing to the map. "Crabbe and Goyle are on the seventh floor now. Ginny and I will—"

"Hey!" Neville appeared around the corner, followed closely by Luna. "What's going on?" he asked. "We got the message."

"Harry needs us," Ginny responded. "Neville come with Ron and me to the Room of Requirement. Harry thinks that Malfoy is inside and that something's going to happen. He and Professor Dumbledore just left."

"But why—"

"Can't tell you, mate," Ron replied. "We don't even know all the details."

"Suffice it to say, Harry needs us to protect Hogwarts while he deals with . . . bigger things," was all Hermione could think to add.

"All right," Ron said and looked back to the map from over Hermione's shoulder. "Ginny, you and Neville head up to the seventh floor, I'll be right behind you. Luna, you and Hermione go down to the dungeons and keep watch on Snape. We'll need to know if he's coming." Before he'd finished his sentence, Luna turned and moved quickly.

Hermione, however, appeared hesitant to leave him. "I don't want to . . ." she began, but Ron stepped forward and reached his hand behind her head as he had sat just minutes earlier in the common room, pressing his forehead against hers.

"It's going to be all right, we're lucky, yeah?" He grinned and with the energy and positive vibes that Felix was giving him, Ron leaned in and kissed her cheek. It wasn't good enough for him, and by the look on her face it wasn't enough for her, but it was all they had time for. "Stay safe," he pleaded, squeezing her hand and then turned and ran.

By the time Ron made it to the seventh floor, Neville and Ginny stood silently staring at the wall in front of them. "Where're Crabbe and Goyle?" he asked.

"They were gone when we got here," Ginny muttered. " _Lucky_ , right?" She eyed Ron with a knowing smirk.

Ron pulled out the map and looked. The only names on the seventh floor were now his, Neville's, and Ginny's. He briefly glanced down toward the dungeons where he instantly saw that Luna and Hermione had made it there; Snape remained in his office. Ron let out a sigh of relief. "All right, do we try and get in, or do we wait?"

* * *

It felt like an hour had gone. All three of them tried multiple times to get into the room, but Ron knew it was pointless. Harry and done the exact same thing for hours and remained locked outside. Carefully, Ron kept examining the map to make sure Hermione and Luna were still safe.

Ron frowned at Neville. "I can't believe out of the whole D.A., only you and Luna showed up."

"Yeah, well, we were the ones who went into the Department of Mysteries. The others might have been, I dunno, scared off?" Neville suggested. "Maybe they just don't carry the coins on them anymore. I keep mine in my pocket always and—"

Suddenly, a door appeared on the wall, and Ron stood up quickly, his wand drawn. Ginny and Neville flanked him on either side. "Stun the little ferret," Ron ordered.

But they didn't have a chance to. Malfoy appeared, taking a single look at who he faced and then, before any of them could get a spell off, blackness surrounded them.

Ron choked and fell to the ground as Neville ran into him. "Ginny! Stun him!" he shouted.

"I can't see! _Lumos_!"

But nothing happened.

" _Incendio_!" Ron shouted, to no effect.

He heard many footsteps and began to really panic. Malfoy hadn't been in there alone, but he wasn't with Crabbe and Goyle. The footsteps were loud, and Ron couldn't help but feel a sense of complete dread wash over him. Felix Felicis was not making him feel better.

"Grab my robes," Ron ordered and felt two hands reach for him. He moved forward, crawling around on the floor, one hand on his wand, the other on the side of the wall to keep himself going forward in the right direction. The moment the darkness cleared. Ron was at the stairs. Standing, he looked down pulling out the map and immediately spotted Malfoy's little black dot moving up toward the Astronomy Tower surrounded by several names that he'd recognised from the Daily Prophet.

"Death Eaters are in the castle," he said quickly.

"Let's go!" Neville bolted toward the tower.

"Wait!" Ron looked down at the map again as the name _Weasley_ appeared away from where he and Ginny stood. "Ginny, Bill's here. And Lupin! And Tonks! The Order's come!" Ron turned away from the tower, rushing down the stairs where the map had shown him the Order was waiting.

"Bill!" Ron shouted loudly and, as he turned a corner, he nearly ran headlong into his older brother and Professor Lupin, Tonks bringing up the rear with the others. "Astronomy Tower!" Ron yelled. "Death Eaters!"

Everyone ran and Ron was suddenly torn. Hermione needed to know what was happening, but he couldn't leave his brother and sister to fight Death Eaters. He thought about ordering Ginny to go find Hermione and Luna, but she'd already disappeared up the stairs. Ron took one more glance at the map to make certain Hermione and Luna were still safe and alone outside of Snape's office.

By the time he made it to the tower, a fight had broken out. He watched, horrified, as Lupin, Ginny, Bill, Tonks, and Neville were all duelling Death Eaters. An incredibly large one turned the corner and aimed his wand at Bill's back. Ron shouted, " _Impedimenta_!" and he watched the Death Eater fly backward into a wall.

Spells, hexes, jinxes, and curses flew everywhere, some hitting their marks, others bouncing off the crumbling walls. Ron winced as a female Death Eater aimed and yelled, " _Expulso_!" and the wall behind him exploded. Debris fell down, and a large chunk of metal from what looked to be a railing of some sort slashed his shoulder clean open. Ron barely felt the pain his adrenaline was rushing so hard. He looked around and spotted Neville on the ground near him. "Neville!"

"M'alright," Neville muttered.

* * *

Hermione and Luna paced by the door for a long time. Luna tried to talk at first, but Hermione insisted she be quiet. Why hadn't she taken the map from Ron? Why had she let him go off without her? Certainly Professor Snape was asleep in his room. The idea of Ron going off to face Malfoy was bothering her. The last time Harry had done that, he'd almost been on the end of a Cruciatus Curse.

There were loud sounds coming from floors above them. Hermione whimpered anxiously but for some reason, Felix Felicis kept her feet solid on the ground. _This_ was where they needed to be. Luna appeared to be waiting for orders from her, but before Hermione could say another thing, Professor Flitwick came running around the corner screaming, "Severus! Severus!"

Hermione's eyes widened at Flitwick's obvious panic. "Professor?"

"Death Eaters in the castle! Severus!" he shouted and then pounded on Snape's door with his tiny fist, almost as though he were unaware that Hermione and Luna were even there. He burst his way into Snape's office, closing the door enough that Hermione and Luna remained stuck outside, though still able to hear their professors within.

"Severus! Death Eaters are in the castle; you must come back with me! We need your help. Minerva said to—" There was a loud thump from within the office. Hermione drew her wand, and Luna followed suit.

Professor Snape emerged from his office looking dark and determined, his black robes billowing behind him. "Granger," he spoke directly to Hermione, ignoring Luna completely. "Professor Flitwick collapsed. He must have fainted," he said with a scowl as if the thought offended him. "Take care of him inside and keep yourselves there. Apparently, Death Eaters are in the castle," he echoed Flitwick's words with irritation before moving away, up the dungeon stairs and toward the noise above.

* * *

Floors above, the battle raged on.

A Death Eater that had escaped up the tower returned almost immediately. Lupin turned on his heels, wand raised, but someone shouted behind him, " _Avada Kedavra!"_ and a green light burst toward Lupin. Someone screamed "No!" and Ron saw Bill jump forward, wrapping his arms around Lupin's waist and knocking him to the ground. The curse flew right past them both and struck the other Death Eater square in the chest, dropping him dead.

Neville jumped up from the ground and made to move toward the opening up the stairs to the tower. However, when he reached a certain step, an invisible barrier blocked him from continuing and then launched him backward a good fifteen feet.

Ron heard a loud scream followed by a snarling growl and turned to see someone in the rubble bleeding profusely while a large, horrible-looking Death Eater stood on top of them. Ron couldn't tell who it was, but the Death Eater was struck sharply in the back by a curse Tonks threw at him. He growled and turned on her, but she kept him at bay with sparks from her wand.

Ron looked up as a black cloak moved to his left and he saw Snape ascending the stairs to the tower. A brief look of panic fell over him, followed by sudden relief. Snape was in the Order. They didn't trust him, but _Dumbledore_ did. Worst case scenario, Snape had gone to retrieve and protect Malfoy, who had run for cover. Ron noticed that Neville tried to follow Snape up the stairs, but was thrown back once again.

" _Expulso_!" the large Death Eater screamed, and suddenly, the ceiling shook and caved in.

Ron searched around for a split second to find Ginny, and dove knocking them both to the ground where he covered her body with his own. Large chunks of stone crushed down upon them all. Ron could feel welts and bruises on his back already forming.

"You git!" Ginny screamed but then hugged him tightly. She crawled out from under him and reached for his hand to pull him out of the rubble with her.

Once up, the fight resumed as green and red lights flashed around them. The Death Eaters paired off once again, and before Ron could see if everyone was okay, two Death Eaters faced himself and Ginny—who stood back to back.

Behind him, he could hear Ginny screaming shield charms while a giggling voice snapped back.

 _"Crucio-Crucio-you can't dance forever, pretty-"_

 _"Impedimenta!"_

"Harry!" Ron yelled with relief and then turned shouting, " _Stupefy_!" at his Death Eater opponent, who dodged the attack but then vanished.

As quickly as Harry had appeared, he disappeared, running back down the steps. One by one, the remaining Death Eaters followed him and some Order Members took chase.

"Ron!" someone screamed, and he turned and spotted Hermione and Luna rushing into the broken corridor. Without a single thought except, "Thank Merlin, she's alive," Ron jumped over the piles of rubble and pulled Hermione into his arms as tightly as he could, kissing her hair and holding her to him as a reminder that she was breathing.

"Ron you're hurt!" she yelled pulling away from him, looking at his arm.

"I'm not the worst," he said and looked her over for injuries, spotting a few scratches here and there. "What happened?"

"Death Eaters threw curses at the staircase as we were running. We fell; it's nothing," she assured him.

"I'm going after them!" Ron shouted angrily and turned to move.

Lupin called out to him. "You're staying here. You're _needed_ here."

Ron turned to argue and looked as Lupin and Tonks pulled rubble off of a body. He gasped loudly when he realised it was Bill's body, the face practically unrecognisable.

"Get him to the Hospital Wing quickly!" Lupin ordered, and Ron jumped forward to help pull fallen stones off of his brother's body. "He's alive," Lupin insisted. "But his wounds need to be treated immediately." Tonks levitated Bill's unconscious and bleeding form quickly but carefully, moving down the stairs and toward the Hospital Wing.

Ron and Ginny followed silently, the sounds of shouting outside on the grounds were incomprehensible at to them. Ron ran, unaware that he was clinging to Hermione's hand as he dashed behind Lupin, Tonks, and Bill. Somewhere outside on the grounds, a fire erupted near the edge of the forest—Hagrid's cabin aflame and Harry struggling on the ground while Snape and the Death Eaters fled with Malfoy in tow.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

* * *

 **June 1997**

It felt like hours, but only a few minutes had passed as Madam Pomfrey took care of Bill. He wasn't out of the woods just yet, but things looked as hopeful as they could all things considering. Lupin paced back and forth while Ron sat on a bed across from Bill's, staring blankly at the body of his brother that miraculously continued to breathe. He wrapped his arms protectively around Hermione trying to drown his anxiety in the smell of her hair and the feel of a body against his; she grounded him in these times of stress and worry.

"They're gone," Professor McGonagall whispered as she looked out the window. "Someone must go and find Potter."

"I'll go." Ginny stood, and Ron immediately reached out to stop her. "Don't!" she pulled away from her brother and glared defiantly at him. "I'll go." Before he could argue with her, she'd vanished out of the infirmary doors. He clung harder to Hermione, unaware that he was shivering.

"Come on, let's get you patched up." Hermione tugged on his uninjured arm.

Ron only shook his head, desperate to bury his face in her hair once again and let the scent wash away the smell of blood and potions that surrounded them. "Others first," he insisted.

"Others _have_ been first; it's your turn now." She pulled him up and moved him to another less crowded area, but his eyes still focused on Bill. Pushing him back until his knees met the bed behind him and buckled him to sit, Hermione sighed, worried. She disappeared from his side for a few seconds, returning with a brown bottle and clean gauze. "Hold still," she muttered as she tore at his robes, revealing the damaged skin below. Ron winced as she applied whatever was in the bottle, and he turned his attention to the cut which began to slowly repair itself.

"Dittany," Hermione informed him.

"You're alive," he muttered softly.

She smiled sadly down at him. "Of course I am."

"The last time, the Death Eaters . . . we were separated then too, and you almost—"

"But I didn't." She took his face in her hands, her eyes quickly seeking out his. "I didn't _then,_ and I didn't _now_ , and I _won't_ ," she all but promised him. "Come on," she said and pulled him up to his feet, leading him back over to Bill's bedside. She only removed herself from Ron's arms when the doors opened, and Harry walked in.

Hermione rushed to her best friend, pulling him into a hug.

Ron felt a wash of relief at the sight of Harry, _alive_.

Lupin began to explain what happened to Bill while Harry, as usual, took on a look of pure guilt. Ron frowned, hating when Harry turned himself into a martyr. This wasn't just _his_ war. Ron knew chess and strategy all too well. Harry was an important piece in the game, but just another piece like the rest of them.

 _"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," said Lupin, "but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and-and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."_

 _"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said. "Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders; Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state-"_

 _"Ron-Dumbledore's dead."_

* * *

Hogwarts became quite empty as parents came and retrieved their children in the days that followed. News of Dumbledore's death spread quickly. If there was ever doubt that they were at war, it was silenced by the death of the famed headmaster. Dumbledore hadn't just been a wizard or a teacher; he was their leader. Someone they looked to because they _couldn't_ look to the Ministry of Magic in a crisis.

Now they had to face a battle without a general—without a plan.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry remained close, away from prying eyes as people came in and out of the castle to fetch their children, to pay respects, to investigate, or to repair. The four friends barely left the common room despite the beautiful weather outside. News of Bill's health was the only thing that sparked a smile in any of them, and once he'd been released into Fleur's loving—and demanding—care, somehow the world seemed just the tiniest bit brighter, even in these incredibly dark times.

 _"I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to marry her," sighed Ginny later that evening, as she, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat beside the open window of the Gryffindor common room, looking out over the twilit grounds._

 _"She's not that bad," said Harry. "Ugly, though," he added hastily, as Ginny raised her eyebrows, and she let out a reluctant giggle._

"Hideous," Ron added looking at Hermione, recalling how angry she'd been with him for making a fool of himself over Fleur the previous summer. Hermione only smiled at him in reply from over the top of her newspaper.

The smiles didn't last long; they still had Dumbledore's funeral to attend. Dressed in their best robes, _Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny filed into seats at the end of a row beside the lake. People were whispering to each other; it sounded like a breeze in the grass, but the birdsong was louder by far._

Hagrid walked up the aisle, carrying Dumbledore's body, and Hermione couldn't force herself to look. So many were crying; she could feel Ginny shuddering to her left. Her own tears fell into her lap, still unable to bring her eyes forward and accept the truth. Dumbledore was dead. She felt an arm go around her shoulder, and Ron pulled her gently against his chest where she continued to sob against him. For a moment, she thought she felt him kiss the top of her head, and she clung tightly to him in response. This war was too real now, and she was terrified that by the end of it, she'd lose all the people she cared about.

Hermione looked up briefly to see Harry and Ginny whispering to one another, a look of utter devastation on Harry's face. She sighed, knowing exactly what he was up to. He was ending things with Ginny for her own protection. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it was the right move. Was it smart to put others in danger? Harry was a target, and that made everyone he loved targets as well. Ron and his whole family were targeted because they were blood traitors. Hermione was a target because she was Muggle-born. A moment of panic flashed through her. Her parents. They were targets.

She suddenly felt a jolt of pain, and she cried harder into Ron's shoulder. His other hand began stroking her hair. She could feel him crying too, his body holding back as he shook lightly against her. Maybe she could do it. Maybe she could keep her family safe, but she would need him. She would need his strength and support to recover from what she knew now that she had to do.

"It's going to be okay," Ron promised her, kissing the top of her head again.

She turned her tired eyes to look up at him and for a second, she believed him. "Where'd Harry go?" she asked, looking around.

"I see him," Ron said as he stood. He pulled Hermione behind him, letting go of her hand only when they got within viewing distance of Harry on the other side of the lake, passing the Minister for Magic in the process.

 _"What did Scrimgeour want?" Hermione whispered._

 _"Same as he wanted at Christmas," shrugged Harry. "Wanted me to give him inside information on Dumbledore and be the Ministry's new poster boy."_

 _Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and then he said loudly to Hermione, "Look, let me go back and hit Percy!"_

 _"No," she said firmly, grabbing his arm._

 _"It'll make me feel better!"_

 _Harry laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle._

 _"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back." she said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"_

 _"Maybe it won't," said Ron. "We're not in any more danger here than we are at home, are we? Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer; there are more wizards inside to defend the place. What d'you reckon, Harry?"_

 _"I'm not coming back even if it does reopen," said Harry._

The Horcruxes.

Hermione couldn't even think of where to start. She had so much to do, so much to research and plan.

 _"We'll be there, Harry," said Ron._

 _"What?"_

 _"At your aunt and uncle's house," said Ron. "And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going."_

 _"No-"_

 _"You said to us once before," said Hermione quietly, "that there was time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we?"_

 _"We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. "But, mate, you're going to have to come 'round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"_

 _"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally._

* * *

Before leaving the school, Hermione went to her room to pack her trunk. She thought about checking the library for anything they might need on their hunt for Horcruxes, but seeing that she'd already been through every book there was there and nothing mentioned them, she couldn't think of wasting time. She didn't understand how Horcruxes would have been taught at the school with so little evidence. To destroy a book that wasn't a Horcrux itself seemed very unlike Dumbledore.

A thought occurred to her, and she opened the window of the dormitory.

"It couldn't be that easy," she mumbled and waved her wand, " _Accio_!"

Suddenly, three books flew into her hands, coming from the direction of Dumbledore's study. "Thank you," she whispered, holding back tears. With a positive grin, she shoved the books into her trunk and slammed the lid closed. "Come on, Crookshanks," she muttered to her ginger cat who crawled into his carrier. "You're not going home with me this time. You'll have more fun at the Burrow, and I'll see you soon." Taking Crookshanks home was pointless as she wasn't planning on staying there that long herself.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop outside Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Hermione hesitantly stepped off, Ron and Harry at her side. Ginny had run up ahead and quickly fell into Mrs. Weasley's arms once they'd made it through the platform.

"Hello, darling," Hermione's mother said and quickly embraced her, taking note that Ron was close to her daughter's side. "I see things worked themselves out?" she whispered in her ear.

Hermione blushed. "I promise, I'll tell you everything."

"We were sorry to hear about your teacher," Mr. Granger seemed addressed Harry and Ron as well as his daughter. "Sad thing to hear, but I suppose we all have to go when it's our time."

Harry's eyes briefly narrowed until Mrs. Weasley took to Mr. Granger's side with a sad smile. "Yes, yes. Still, going peacefully in your sleep of natural causes after a life well lived; I can't think of a better way to end one's life."

Suddenly it all made sense. Hermione had made a request of the Order that her parents be left somewhat in the dark and, being of age, no one disagreed with her. She was determined to keep her family out of a war where they couldn't protect themselves.

Harry, however, seemed bothered by the lie. "I don't know, I think I'd rather die fighting for a good cause," he said quickly and then walked away in search of the Dursleys.

Hermione's father smiled sadly, shaking his head. "Young men who've never had to fight always think that."

Ron clearly couldn't handle it anymore, and turned to join his own family.

"I'll be right back," Hermione muttered, snatching up Crookshanks's carrier and following after Ron and Harry. "Wait!" she called out to them, and both boys thankfully stopped. "Here." She handed the carrier to Ron. Once out of her hands, Crookshanks hissed.

Ron looked at the carrier like it was infected with dragon pox. "What do I want this for?"

"Can I trust you?" she asked him and his face fell as if the question were an insult.

He nodded firmly. "Course."

"Then take care of Crookshanks until I get to the Burrow. I won't be more than a week or so." She reached up and hugged him close. "I'll explain everything then," she promised, and then turned to Harry, wrapping him in a tight hug as well.

"We're with you, Harry," she said with a sad smile. "Until the end."

 _The end_ —the words seemed to have so much more meaning these days.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

* * *

 **July 1997**

Three weeks.

Three weeks without a word to anyone in the Wizarding world save for one person: Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hermione felt terrible for not keeping in contact with Harry and Ron, but she had to act fast. As much as she wanted to do everything herself, living in a Muggle neighbourhood had the obvious disadvantages of limiting her usage of magic, as well as procuring necessary information. She knew she could trust Kingsley. He was in the Order of the Phoenix, an Auror; unlike the Weasley's, Kingsley didn't have a close and personal relationship with Hermione. Hermione knew that if Mrs. Weasley knew what she was planning, there would be an outcry of emotions followed by a serious lecture.

Three weeks.

In three weeks, Kingsley was able to set up everything Hermione needed on the magical side of her plan. Documents had been forged, locations procured, and important people had been properly confunded and then obliviated in order for Hermione to deal with her parents' dental practice, as well as their home—all without Richard and Helen Granger ever knowing it.

"So this year is your big exams, yes?" her father asked her one night as the family sat down to dinner.

Hermione picked at the food; her appetite had vanished over the stress of what she had to do. "What?" She looked up. "Oh, yes, NEWTs, they're called," she explained, though she was certain they'd already had this conversation. Her parents were trying to get her to open up. Having assumed that their daughter was grief-stricken over the unfortunate passing of Headmaster Dumbledore, they seemed determined to let her move through it in her own way, but three weeks had passed and she'd barely spoken to them.

"What do you think you'll want to do when you graduate?" her mother asked. "Travel a bit? We could all go back to France next summer." She smiled brightly. "Or will you be looking for a job?"

"Oh, she needs to see the world first," Richard insisted. "Be a kid for a little longer."

"I umm . . . I had thought about working in the Ministry," she explained. "Perhaps in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." She sighed loudly. "It would be nice to think that someone would take S.P.E.W. seriously."

"That's the umm . . . Society . . ." her father began.

"—for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare," Hermione finished. "Of course I'm not entirely sure that's where I want to end up. Government is full of corruption no matter what world you live in," she said, her words much too heavy for a girl her age.

Both of her parents noticed her tone and cleared their throats.

"What about Harry and Ron? What do they plan to do after Hogwarts?" Helen asked.

"They want to be Aurors," Hermione said, fiddling with the peas on her plate.

"Aurors?" Richard asked.

"Law enforcement," Hermione explained. "Very elite actually. They're highly trained specialists who apprehend Dark wizards. The training is quite intensive," she went on, detailing more of Ron and Harry's potential careers than she had gone into her own. "Harry was practically born for the position," she said, leaving out the details of why. "And Ron well . . ." She shook her head. She didn't actually _know_ why Ron was so determined to become an Auror.

"Dangerous, sounds like," her father commented.

"No more dangerous than . . ." She stopped mid sentence and sighed loudly. "I need to umm . . . I need to get a book." She moved quickly up the stairs, leaving her plate on the table behind her. Leaning against the wall on the stairway and out of sight, Hermione breathed hard, grasping at her chest as she tried to soothe herself out of what felt like a panic attack.

Once up in her room, Hermione looked over her things. Her large trunk wasn't filled with her usual Hogwarts gear, but instead was packed with essentials that she could gather from her home. Her clothes, every magical book she'd ever bought, camping equipment—save for the tent that she was hoping Ron would be able to procure—and a large envelope full of Muggle money that she'd retrieved from her own bank account. She took a deep breath and tapped her trunk with her wand, watching as it disappeared; hopefully reappearing at the Burrow where the Weasley's were eventually expecting her, but since she had not owled them, would possibly grow suspicious as her things suddenly showed up without her.

It was now or never.

Wand in her pocket, she rushed back down the stairs and came face to face with both of her parents.

"What's going on, dear?" her mother asked. "We've tried to be patient, but the way you're acting is just . . ."

"It's unhealthy," her father continued. "We understand you're upset, but you need to snap out of it for your own sake. If you want, we can go somewhere. France, as we mentioned before, or . . . or . . ."

"Australia?" Hermione asked.

"Well, we weren't thinking so far away, but I'm sure we could arrange something," her mother muttered quietly, glad to see that Hermione was at least interested.

"I think I'd like that." Hermione smiled and rushed in, wrapping her arms around her parents and squeezing them as tightly as possible. "I love you both." She let a few small tears leak out but reigned in the sobs she knew were closing in on her.

"We love you, Hermione," Helen said, a very worried tone in her voice. Hermione could feel her father lean down and kiss the top of her head affectionately while patting her back.

* * *

A few short hours later, her parents were asleep.

Hermione stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching them carefully as the soft light from her wand died out. The charm had been cast. Hermione swallowed hard and turned away, whispering " _Muffliato_ ," as she closed their door behind her so she could work on the rest of the house, removing all traces of her in photographs, and performing a magnificent looking Disillusionment Charm on her bedroom door, watching it tuck itself into the walls around it, much the same way Number Twelve Grimmauld Place melted into Numbers Eleven and Thirteen. Hermione was extremely grateful that she'd already gone through their bedroom the day before while they'd been working in the garden. She slipped out any and all reminders of herself, including a small photograph in her father's wallet.

There was one last thing to check before she could leave the house of Richard and Helen Granger for what very well could be forever. Hermione cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and stepped into the shadows to fully disappear into the background. Then with a wave of her wand, she levitated a flower vase that stood upright on a table in the bathroom across the hall, and with a swish of her wand, the vase fell to the floor with a loud crash.

The door of her parents bedroom opened within seconds, and her father appeared, looking around frantically. His eyes scanned through the darkness unaware of Hermione standing feet away from him. He crossed the length to the bathroom where he flicked on a light and sighed a bit.

"Wendel?" Hermione's mother called out from the bedroom. "Is everything all right?"

"Just fine, Monica," he replied. "I knew that old vase was too close to the ledge."

Wendell and Monica. Not Richard and Helen.

Hermione tried to hold in the sigh of relief she had been wanting to let out, knowing that her spell had worked. Their memories were gone.

"We'll clean it up in the morning," Hermione could hear her mother call. "You need your rest. We still haven't even begun packing for the trip."

"We don't leave for Australia for another four days," Hermione's father called back to his wife, turning the light of the bathroom off as he walked back through the darkness, missing Hermione by mere inches.

The door closed behind him, and Hermione let out a silent cry, gripping her wand tightly in one hand, clutching her chest with the other as she very nearly fell into a crumpled pile on the floor in front of her parents room.

As quietly as she could, Hermione turned and walked down the staircase, memorising each and every piece of the house that she could. Her home. It wasn't _her_ home anymore, and though she didn't want to think about it, there was a chance that they would fail—that Harry would fail in the search for Horcruxes, in which case she would never call this place home again. Richard and Helen Granger would remain Wendell and Monica Wilkins, and the daughter they'd long forgotten—or never had existed—would likely be dead, and they would never know.

But they would live. They would be far away, unaware of a Wizarding war; unaware of their connection to it through Hermione. They would survive because they now knew nothing that could possibly help Death Eaters—nothing that could help Voldemort.

Hermione closed the front door behind her and walked down the street where she found her way into a small alleyway free from view of open windows from nearby houses. She closed her eyes, concentrated as she gripped her wand, and Disapparated into the blackness.

* * *

 _CRACK!_

"Did you hear that?" Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen as she stared out the window and into the darkness. "Someone's just Apparated."

Ron rushed down the stairs as quickly as possible, not even taking a moment to change out of his pyjama bottoms or to realise that he was barefoot. He'd been getting ready for bed when there'd been a bit of a scuffle a few floors down. He heard Ginny shout that, in the darkness of her room, she'd stubbed her toe on a large trunk that had not been there an hour before. Opening it briefly and seeing the number of books inside, it was obviously Hermione's.

"Did she owl and say she was coming?" Ginny had asked her brother.

"No, she's been silent for weeks. Acted strange at King's Cross, though," he remarked. "Asked me to trust her, to take her stupid cat, and she'd see me as soon as she could."

"I guess that means she's on her way," Ginny replied curiously, as Hermione never just showed up without proper advance. Ron also looked a little shocked. He knew whatever it was, had something to do with their planned Horcrux hunt, but he wasn't willing to share that secret information with Ginny.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Don't just go running . . . it could be . . . you shouldn't—" she stammered, terrified naturally that someone had Apparated through the security wards to attack, though Hermione's trunk appearing at the Burrow made it more likely to be her arrival.

Ron rushed out into the yard and dashed across the length of the field in front of his house. He was desperate to see her, to make sure she was okay. She'd not contacted him at any point over the past three weeks, but Kingsley had mentioned that she was safe. Ron assumed the Order was protecting her family and keeping a guard on her house, much in the same way they did for the Burrow, as well as Harry's home at Privet Drive. Still, he had to see her to make sure.

It was nearly pitch black out, save for the light cast down on the thick grass by the moon and stars, easily visible against the ebony velvet sky. He made out her silhouette and called out to her, keeping his wand in hand, just in case. "Hermione? That you?"

"Fizzing Whizbees," Hermione muttered quietly from her standing place in the darkness.

Ron immediately slipped his wand into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms, relieved to hear the word—their secret security code word that she had chosen, though he wasn't entirely certain why. He'd have thought her secret security code word would have been _Hogwarts, A History_ or some other book title. But she'd chosen the candy with great ease.

He took a few quick steps forward, unable to make out her face in the darkness, but when he finally did and could see her features quite well, he stopped in his tracks and what was turning into a smile on his face, quickly vanished. "Mione?" he whispered softly.

She stood there, arms wrapped around herself, clutching nothing but a wand in her hand. Her long bushy hair had been pinned back at some point, but stray locks had fallen from their clasp, the light breeze blowing them against her face. She remained utterly silent, her body shaking and Ron could see that tears were pouring down her cheeks. He was terrified at the sight of her, but an overwhelming courage flowed through him, and he closed the distance between them, pulling her into his long arms.

The moment the two bodies connected and she felt the warmth of his skin on hers, Hermione's knees buckled and she collapsed, bringing them both to the ground as she sobbed openly. Every part of her felt like it was breaking open.

Ron held her tightly as he now knelt on the slightly damp grass in front of the Burrow, unwilling to release her even to look at her face. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close to him; the other gently stroked her hair. "It's okay," he said, trying to console her, unaware of what could have possibly caused this much pain. "Hermione, tell me what happened."

"I . . . I . . ." she said through gasps of breath that her lungs were desperate for. "I left them. My parents. I left, and . . . and . . ." She sobbed. "I changed their memories. I sent them as far away as I could. I had to," her tone changed as though she were immediately trying to defend her actions. "They would have . . . they're Muggles, Ron. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves."

Ron's eyes were wide. Everything made sense now. Why she'd been too busy to write. Why she'd sent no notice ahead of time. She was disconnecting her parents from everything magical. Even a stray owl couldn't be seen leaving her house. It made sense, and he wondered if their positions were reversed if he would have been able to do it.

 _No._

He hadn't even been able to tell his parents that he wasn't going to be returning to Hogwarts. Now he felt shameful as he knew that when he finally _did_ tell them, Hermione would very likely take part in that conversation. As if she needed something else to stress over.

"You're saving them," he promised her. "And everything is going to be okay," he said, hoping his words gave her some comfort.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley approached her son, who had wrapped his arms around a weeping Hermione. She took a moment before speaking again, and the look on her face seemed to say she was embarrassed as though she'd intruded on a very intimate moment between the two. However, her protective nature took over. Hermione was upset, and the girl was like a daughter to her. Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but feel the overwhelming urge to fix whatever had clearly happened. "Is everything alright? Did she splinch herself?"

Ron shook his head. "It's hard to explain, Mum."

"All right." She resigned herself to wait for a proper explanation. "Come into the house then." She leaned down and gently touched Hermione's shoulder. "I'll fix us all up some tea. Then you can get some rest. We've already set up a camp bed in Ginny's room. Your trunk arrived just fine."

Ron helped Hermione to stand and wasn't surprised when she'd run into his mother's open arms and wrapped herself there for nearly a minute. Hermione had very literally just lost her own mother, and nothing could replace that, but if anyone could come even the tiniest bit close, it was his own mum, who couldn't help but to mother any and every child within the boundaries of the Burrow.

Once inside, Ron put the kettle on while Hermione went upstairs to wash her face. When she came back down, he was sitting at the table, and his mother was pouring tea for all three of them. Hermione sat beside him, across from Mrs. Weasley, and sipped at her tea. Ron's mother looked like she was chomping at the bit, holding herself back from diving into a parade of questions over Hermione's condition. Ron sat nervously waiting in case Hermione started crying again.

"Thank you," she finally broke the silence. "I'm so sorry I didn't owl ahead."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and muttered, "Not to worry."

Hermione paused, took another sip of her tea, and went into a long explanation of what she'd done to her parents. Her story was very brief, and Ron was sure that she was leaving out a great deal of details for his mother's sake, but Mrs. Weasley sat there, seemingly unaffected by the story save for the sympathetic look on her face over Hermione's turmoil.

"Oh dear." Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I'm so sorry you felt that something like that was necessary. The Order could have protected your family, Hermione," she began but then stopped as there was a _WHOOSH_ from the other room and Mr. Weasley exited the fireplace. "I thought we weren't using the Floo anymore?" she called out to him in a shrill voice.

"Last time," he insisted. "Sealed up right behind me." Security for the Burrow had increased dramatically. "What is—oh!" He spotted Hermione. "Didn't know you'd be coming today, Hermione." He offered her a smile that grew immediately uncomfortable as he saw her puffy, red eyes. "Something I should know?" he asked, looking up at his wife.

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Yes." Ron swallowed hard. "I need to tell you both something."

With Hermione sitting there and both of his parents looking at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted wings, Ron explained that he would not be returning to Hogwarts. Before his mother entered into a rant that included references to his dropout twin brothers, Ron explained that he, Harry, and Hermione had been given a mission from Dumbledore. Something that could—that _would_ —end the war and save them all.

"What is it?" Mrs. Weasley asked immediately, looking flustreed.

Ron shook his head. "We can't tell you."

"Can't _tell_ us?!" her voice rose. "You absolutely _will_ tell us! You can't expect us just to let you—"

"I don't _expect_ anything, Mum." Ron looked up, finding himself shocked at the seriousness with which he was addressing his mother without backing down from her stare. "Because well . . . you can't stop us from leaving." He gulped a little. "We're all of age."

" _Harry's_ not," Mrs. Weasley pointed out.

"He will be by the time we leave," Ron countered.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"We can't tell you."

"Why _you_ three?" Mr. Weasley asked his son, a look of foreboding on his aging face.

Ron looked down. "We can't tell you."

Mrs. Weasley was bordering on hysterical. "Why?!"

Ron looked up. "For your safety. It's . . ." He casually looked at Hermione.

"It's why I did what I did to my parents," she explained. "Everyone will be in danger because of what we need to do."

"I . . . I can't . . " Mrs. Weasley sobbed and stood up. "I have to plan a wedding . . ." She left the room, clearly unable to handle the situation as it was becoming much too real.

Ron had known she would react like this, though he expected a lot more yelling. After everything last year and Bill being attacked, his mother had hovered over all of her children much more than usual. The idea of letting one of them just wander off, skip his last year of school to go on some foolhardy mission with his friends, a mission given to them by an old, brilliant—but barking mad—wizard who was now dead, was not something she could just accept and move on.

"You're certain it has to be you three?" Mr. Weasley asked after a moment of silence.

Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Let me know how we can help," Mr. Weasley muttered quietly and stood, walking over to Ron and placing a hand on his shoulder, as if to silently portray pride. Then he turned, walked out of the kitchen, and the Burrow was silent once more.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely." Ron nodded and smiled across the table at her. Without a doubt in his voice, he added, "Harry knows what he's doing. Dumbledore told him. He'll have a plan; I know it."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

* * *

 **July 1997**

Ron felt awkward in his body. Well, not exactly _his_ body— _Harry's_ body to be precise. The Polyjuice Potion had tasted as awful as it had years before when he and Harry had used it to sneak into the Slytherin common room, but Ron felt more afraid now than he had back then. He'd spent a fair amount of years secretly wishing he was Harry; to be known and adored as Harry had been. However, now that he was identical to his best mate—now that he'd volunteered to be a decoy for potential Death Eaters—Ron just wanted to be himself again.

He glanced around Privet Drive where everyone began mounting brooms and Thestrals. Hagrid sat across Sirius's old motorbike with Harry in the sidecar. The _real_ Harry. Ron turned his attention to everyone else and without knowing how the pairings had been split up, there was no way of telling who was who as half of them looked like Harry Potter. Ron gave a smile to his brothers, the twins each with a brand new lightning bolt scar on their heads, and Bill accompanying Fleur, who also looked like Harry.

His currently green gaze fell on Kingsley Shacklebolt, who mounted a Thestral. The Harry Potter look-a-like who sat behind the Auror looked apprehensive and nervous, but their eyes met and Ron smiled. _Hermione_. She hated flying, even if it wasn't on a broom.

When they'd all sat around the Weasley table with the Order discussing the events that would take place that night, Ron and Hermione both volunteered. His mother had been beside herself. With the exception of Percy the Prat, and Ginny—who herself tried to volunteer only to be rejected because of her age—all of the Weasley children were now involved in the Order of the Phoenix. Tonight the goal was to protect Harry. The plan had been discussed in depth. They'd all Polyjuice themselves into Harry Potter and each pair up, sent to different known safe houses connected to members of the Order. Ron had wanted to go with Hermione to keep her safe; he was the better flyer of the two. However, it made sense that those who were younger would make the transformation and be paired with older members of the Order, most of which were Aurors or skilled duellers.

Bill could protect Fleur as he was healing well from his attack by Fenrir Greyback just a month earlier. Harry would go with Hagrid, who was pleased with the assignment. Mad-Eye would keep an eye on Mundungus, Fred with their father, George with Lupin, leaving Hermione to be protected by Kingsley. It calmed Ron a bit to know that the man who was assigned to protect the Muggle Prime Minister had taken the night off to keep Hermione safe while in flight.

Ron, however, was paired up with Tonks, who was a skilled Auror but clumsy as hell. He could only hope that she _flew_ straighter than she _walked_.

 _"Hold tight now, Ron," said Tonks._

He threw a guilty look at Lupin as he slowly put his hands on the sides of Tonks's waist, waiting to see if his former teacher flashed any hint of anger over the fact that Ron was touching his new wife. Ron heard a low rumble from Hagrid's motorbike and took one last look at Harry, and then Hermione, offering them each a reassuring smile.

 _"Good luck, everyone," shouted Moody. "See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One ... two ... THREE."_

They weren't in the air long before they were surrounded by Death Eaters.

Tonks gave a loud shout, and Ron immediately reached for his wand. They flew downward quickly, dodging curses left and right. He could barely see straight as she moved with speed; the only sight he could make out clearly were red and green flashes of light flying over his head, aimed at the brooms that sped above them. He craned his neck around, one arm gripping Tonks's waist as he used the leverage of the other to try and aim for Death Eaters who were presently attacking the Order. Ron couldn't see Harry—he and Hagrid had flown in the opposite direction—but he caught sight of Kingsley for a split second and could feel his chest tighten in a panic as the Auror—Hermione in tow—was surrounded by five Death Eaters. There was a tremendous flash of red and green light and one Death Eater fell off his broom stunned, another clearly dead. When Ron looked back up at Kingsley and Hermione, they were gone leaving the other three Death Eaters looking around confused.

"Tonks go!" Ron shouted.

They sped along, for how long, he couldn't tell. Every few seconds, he would turn and see them being tailed by a Death Eater and it somehow felt like time stopped. Ron would turn and shoot a curse or hex back behind them, missing each time, but the attempts to avoid his attacks were causing the Death Eaters to lose speed. Quickly, they fell back into the distance.

"Look out!" Ron shouted as a Death Eater emerged in front of them as if he'd Apparated on his broom mid-flight. A flash of green flew at them and Tonks dove out of the way. Ron could see her reaching for her wand, but the speed with which they were flying needed her to keep both hands steady on the broom. Ron turned, aimed his wand precisely and shouted, " _Stupefy_!" and watched the Stunning Spell hit the surprised Death Eater in the face.

"Brilliant!" he heard Tonks yell.

Before they had a real chance to celebrate the temporary victory, a broom appeared overhead and Ron heard a loud cackle. He looked up and saw a black haired woman, the smile on her jaw made her look deranged. "Tonks!" Ron shouted, pointing his wand above them to shoot a curse that quickly missed. Tonks swerved the broom and soon they were in chase again.

An outraged Bellatrix Lestrange took off after them, screaming, "Come to Auntie Bella, you little blood-traitor!" She aimed her wand. " _Crucio_!" The spell missed them by mere inches. "You'll pay for how you've tainted the blood of my father!" Bellatrix shouted, her voice a high-pitched shriek.

Ron aimed another curse at her, which she dodged all too easily. He stared at the Death Eater with a hatred that he hadn't felt before as he remembered the look on Neville's face the year prior, telling them all the story of how his parents had been tortured by Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers.

Curse after curse Bellatrix sent at them, making it hard for Ron to even take proper aim. To his great relief, Tonks was a brilliant flyer, although he wished he'd had her duelling skills. " _Impedimenta_!" he shouted, and a red flash of light exited his wand and flew just under Bella's broom, nicking the handle slightly enough to cause her to grip it with both hands to stabilise herself. Her dark eyes turned up and glared at him and he felt a rush of cold come over his body.

"You filthy little—" she started but then her face dropped all emotion, save for immense excitement and she glanced down at her forearm before turning away from them and vanishing from sight.

"What happened?" Tonks called out to him.

"Where'd she go?!" Ron asked, looking over his shoulder. It seemed strange that suddenly they weren't being chased by anyone. Did that mean they'd found Harry? The _real_ Harry?

Tonks growled. "We're going to miss the Portkey."

"Just go straight to the Burrow then!" Ron shouted over the roar of the wind in their ears.

"Can't! Just in case we're still being followed!"

They made their way to Ron's Auntie Muriel's house where they landed quickly. Ron jumped off of the broom and rushed inside to find his aunt sitting there in her sitting room; a glowing, blue, broken light fixture lay on the table. Ron rushed to grab it but the blue light faded. They'd officially missed their Portkey.

"Shit!" Ron shouted in frustration.

"Ronald Weasley!" Muriel scolded him. "There's no reason for such language!"

" _Seriously_?!" Ron looked at her, his eyes wide.

"Have you been hit with something?" His aunt stood and faced him. "Come here my boy, look in my eyes. I think you've been confunded."

"I'm not confunded," he snapped and brushed her hand away from his face. "We need to leave," he insisted to Tonks, who nodded.

"You don't want to stay for tea?" Muriel called out. "Already missed your Portkey, might as well sit down and wait to see if—"

Ron left his aunt mid-sentence, practically dragging Tonks out with him.

* * *

While the flight during the small battle had felt like it took just a few minutes, the trip home felt like hours as Ron ran through his mind every horrible, worst case scenario that might have happened to the others. Being separated from Harry and Hermione had him nervously gripping his wand as if he could help them somehow if he tried hard enough. Not knowing what had happened to his father and brothers was equally worrying. As the Burrow came into view, Ron exhaled with great relief, jumping from Tonks's broom at the sight of Hermione standing on the ground, staring up at him.

 _"You're okay,"_ Ron mumbled reaching a hand up to touch her face—which was truly _her_ face once again—as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Washed over with relief, he pulled her as close to him as possible, breathing her in as if he needed to be reminded that they had both survived the night.

 _"I thought - I thought -" Hermione began, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears._

 _"'M all right," said Ron, patting her on the back. "'M fine." His eyes looked over her shoulder and he smiled gratefully as he spotted Harry there, alive._

 _"Ron was great," said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. "Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you're aiming at a moving target from a flying broom."_

Ron blushed a little.

 _"You did?" said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck._

 _"Always the tone of surprise," he said a little grumpily, breaking free. "Are we the last back?"_

 _"No," said Ginny, "we're still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad-Eye and Mundungus. I'm going to tell Mum and Dad you're okay, Ron."_

They recounted the stories of their own journeys, but all the while the continued absence of Bill, Fleur, Mad-Eye, and Mundungus seemed to lie upon them like a frost, its icy bite harder and harder to ignore.

When his parents came out and wrapped their arms tightly around him, Ron felt a mixture of pride and relief. They held him close and he was grateful to see that his father had returned home safely. His mother wasn't scolding him either, which was a perk if he ever saw one. Despite missing their Portkey, Ron and Tonks had made it there safely. He'd done something good, something to be _really_ proud of, but as his mother pulled away, there was less colour in her face and he felt something tug at his heart.

 _"How's George?" asked Lupin._

 _"What's wrong with him?" piped up Ron._

 _"He's lost ... "_

But the end of his mother's sentence was drowned in a general outcry. A thestral had just soared into sight and landed a few feet from them. Bill and Fleur slid from its back, windswept but unhurt.

 _"Bill! Thank God, thank God!"_

 _Mrs Weasley ran forward, but the hug Bill bestowed upon her was perfunctory. Looking directly at his father, he said, "Mad-Eye's dead."_

Hermione let out a gasp and reached for Ron and he pulled her back against his chest as she sobbed aloud. Mad-Eye had never been as close to them as the other members of the Order, partly because of the way he just was: a hardened soldier. Ron had respected the old nutter, and now he was dead. If _Mad-Eye_ could die . . . that meant that anyone . . . He consciously held Hermione tighter and reached out to put a hand nearby on Harry's shoulder, a gesture of comfort but to also make sure that his friend was really still there, _alive_.

Once inside, everyone began to argue over who could have given them away; who could have possibly betrayed the Order. Ron, however, was busy moving to George's side, the colour drained from his face. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" Ron asked quietly, horrified by the blood that surrounded the scarred flesh of George's head where an ear should have been.

"Jealous," George muttered with a slight grin, clearly trying to be quiet as the rest of the room was filled with grief over Mad-Eye and worry over everything else.

"Jealous? Of a hole in your head?" Ron almost laughed, but he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. This was too real. Ron had been injured in this war already. He'd been confunded and attacked and scarred and bruised and poisoned. He'd had a wall fall on top of him. But seeing another one of his brothers with permanent damage like this . . . Ron quickly realised that his family wouldn't walk away whole from this war. He knew chess better than most, and statistically . . . they'd lose some pieces before the end came, even if they won.

"All the good-looking Weasley's have scars now," George said with a grin. "Me and Bill. Soon I'll have a gorgeous veela girl. You'll see."

"What does that make _me_?" Fred asked, looking down at his nearly identical twin.

George patted Fred's shoulder consolingly. "A pity shag. You'll be the _twin_ of a great war hero."

Firewhisky was quickly handed around the room in a toast to Mad-Eye. Ron looked down at the glass of substance he'd spent a few times the year prior _trying_ to get his hands on during visits to Hogsmeade. Now, however, it felt wrong to want a taste.

 _"To Mad-Eye,"_ everyone mumbled and drank.

The firewhisky burned his throat going down, setting every nerve inside him ablaze for the smallest of moments, but it left behind a warmth that could only be matched by the sweet relief that came knowing somehow, his family had survived the night.

* * *

The days that followed were spent working hard to get the Burrow in decent shape for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Ron's mother, determined to keep the trio from disappearing off on their mission, kept them from planning it by separating them every chance she got. Ron only saw Harry at night when the two shared a room, and even then they were so exhausted from the work all day that they fell asleep before being able to talk about anything. Ron had seen even less of Hermione though he'd catch glimpses of her through windows and door frames before his mother would usher one or the other of them away with something new to do.

Early one morning, he'd had it out with his mother over the chores, insisting that his room didn't _need_ to be cleaned because Bill and Fleur weren't getting married in it. His father had intervened and sent him upstairs to do as he was told—like a child. Harry was sent off to see to the chickens while Hermione was to get started changing bed sheets.

"Ron?"

The door to his bedroom opened and Hermione stood in the frame looking down at him, lying on his bed. Without either of them noticing, Crookshanks slipped in between Hermione's legs and curled himself onto a pile of Ron's dirty clothes in the corner.

The witch eyed him. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning this room?"

"Aren't you meant to be changing sheets?" he asked and countered with a grin.

Hermione shook her head with a small laugh and walked into the room, carrying a large stack of books with her. She'd already been in there during the day, as more stacks were visible near the foot of Harry's unmade camp bed. She sighed setting them down. "I need to start going through these, but it's exhausting. There's so much to do."

"You need to rest." Ron reached for her hand before she sat down on the floor next to the pile of books, dragging her toward him where she landed at his side on his bed.

"Rest? Are you joking?" She stared at him. "Considering everything we have to prepare for?"

"Considering everything we're leaving behind . . ." Ron looked down a bit. "After George and . . . and Mad-Eye . . . I'm just trying to soak up as much of this life before everything changes I guess."

Hermione frowned. "I . . . I understand."

Ron winced. "I didn't mean . . . I'm sorry, your parents and—"

"No, no," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "It's okay. You're right."

Ron grinned but looked surprised. "I _am_?"

She chuckled. "Don't get too excited. We need to prepare for the trip, but we do need to remember what we're doing this for. The wedding . . . I think it's smart that we're staying for it."

"Yeah, it'll be good fun once Mum eases up and lets herself enjoy it. Food, drinks . . . dancing." He winced at the last one. "Not that I'll do much of it."

"You don't dance at all?" she asked him, raising a brow.

"If you don't recall, I don't have a high reputation with dances," he offered and then gave her an apologetic smile that widened only slightly when he saw her blush in reply.

" _Dances_ aren't your problem, Ron," she muttered. "You're _timing_ could be improved upon."

"Has someone asked you to the wedding already then?" he asked her, joking of course, but he still worried that she'd answer in the affirmative. His ego was still well bruised after what were deemed the _Viktor Krum and Cormac McLaggen Incidents._

"No," she said with a laugh, "but considering I'm staying in the home where it'll be held, and helping to prepare for it myself, it's not exactly the extravagant affair I would consider taking a date to."

"Fine, no date," Ron agreed. "Save me a dance, though?" he asked her quickly, his ears turning pink.

Hermione smiled up at him. "I thought you didn't dance?"

"I'd dance with _you_ ," he specified and the grin on his face fell into something much more severe. "How often are we going to be dancing over the next . . . however long this takes?"

"We won't have much time to do a lot of things . . ." Hermione exhaled, "that we could do . . . "

"Yeah?" Ron could see her breathing heavily and he moved closer to her, wanting to feel for himself as her body moved with each breath she took. As he sat up straight, his height gave him the advantage of looking straight down at her. She appeared so small that it made him feel a bit more courageous like he could pick her up if he wanted to—if she'd _let_ him, that is. He felt his hand—which was now moving on its own accord—press itself against her waist, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a momentary grin as he saw her gasp at the touch. Her neck was flushing delicious pink colour. "Like what?"

"I . . . I . . ." Hermione stammered a bit, her eyes glued to his. "I don't think that we should . . " she began but didn't know how to finish the sentence. She knew _exactly_ what she _wanted_ to do, and from the warmth of his hand on her waist and the look of hunger in his eyes, she felt as though he could read her thoughts. Suddenly, she became all too well aware that they were sitting on his bed and her heart began to race.

"I think you think too much, 'Mione," Ron's words were laced with a nervous tone and he licked his lips and brought a hand up to touch her cheek, but it was shaking. When he touched her skin, she made a soft whimpering noise and he inhaled sharply at the sound which egged him on. _Be brave, make the first move_. He'd been studying _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ , a book that Fred and George had given him when he'd returned home from Hogwarts, and now he needed to make sure it was worth the read.

Before Ron could move in closer, capturing her lips like he'd wanted to do for years—as he'd been so close to doing several times, he heard footsteps ascending the stairs and quickly pulled both hands away from Hermione, a panicked look in his eyes. Reading his body language and hearing the noise too, Hermione quickly moved from the bed to the floor, surrounding herself with the piles of books that were in dire need of organisation.

 _"I'm doing it, I'm doing! Oh, it's you," said Ron in relief, as Harry entered the room._

 _"Hi, Harry,"_ Hermione said from her place on the floor.

 _"And how did you manage to get away?"_

 _"Oh, Ron's mum forgot that she asked Ginny and me to change the sheets yesterday," said Hermione._

 _"We were just talking about Mad-Eye,"_ Ron lied.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

* * *

 **July 1997**

The morning of Harry's seventeenth birthday was a hassle. Everyone was still preparing for the wedding, but each person had set aside time to wish Harry a happy birthday and offer him gifts. Hermione was excited to give him a new sneakoscope, which she knew he would enjoy, and was also practical considering the trip they were planning.

 _"I'll pack these for you," Hermione said brightly, taking Harry's presents out of his arms as the three of them headed back upstairs. "I'm nearly done, I'm just waiting for the rest of your underpants to come out of the wash, Ron."_

Ron's splutter was interrupted by the opening of a door on the first-floor landing.

 _"Harry, will you come in here a moment?"_

It was Ginny. Ron came to an abrupt halt, but Hermione took him by the elbow and tugged him on up the stairs. "What d'ya think that was about?" he asked, turning an icy stare back down the staircase, but Hermione continued to drag him along toward his room.

"She probably just wants to give him his birthday gift." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Help me with all of this," she insisted, shoving a handful of Harry's presents into Ron's hand as she made her way to the door and opened it.

Ron glowered at the door as if he stared hard enough, his gaze would see into Ginny's room where he could check up on the pair of them. "I don't like the sound of that. When has she had time to go shopping?"

"We need to pack these," Hermione said as she continued trying to distract him.

Ron turned to her. "Speaking of packing, don't pack my underpants," he said, his ears turning scarlet.

Hermione stared at him for several long, silent moments before speaking slowly, as though she were questioning his sanity, "You don't want underpants packed for the trip?"

"No!" he blurted out, realising how his words had come across, "I mean, _I'll_ pack them." He looked away from her nervously. "You don't need to."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Are you afraid of me looking at your pants?" She narrowed her eyes at him as though he were a toddler and not a fully grown, of age man who towered over her in height.

Ron scowled a bit. "I'm not afraid!"

"Ron, the three of us are going to be living together, for however long it takes to destroy all of the Horcruxes. At some point, I'm going to see your laundry."

He blinked a little and nervously swallowed. "I never thought about it like that."

"Like what?"

"Living together," he said, scratching the back of his neck which had suddenly grown warm. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where's Harry?" and turned back toward his bedroom door, throwing it open and rushing down the stairs to Ginny's room as quickly as possible before he said something even worse in front of Hermione.

She followed after him and was horrified to see that Ron had caught Ginny and Harry kissing. It took a lot of effort to keep him calm but then the boys still ended up on the front lawn where Ron looked on the verge of hitting Harry.

 _"She was really cut up when you ended it."_

 _"So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn't because I wanted to."_

No. Hermione _knew_ why Harry had ended it. Voldemort. Horcruxes. He had to protect Ginny. He also had to keep himself focused. Hermione couldn't help but realise how stupid she'd been in thinking that things would carry on as normal once they'd left for their trip. However she and Ron felt toward each other needed to stop right now, or at least before they left. The three of them couldn't possibly go on this mission without absolute focus. Hermione couldn't think that she and Ron could develop whatever it was between them, and leave Harry sitting there alone, wishing he was back at the Burrow or at Hogwarts with Ginny.

It wasn't fair to Harry.

It wasn't fair to anyone.

Hermione resolved to talk to Ron about it later, once he'd calmed down. She thought about just ignoring her feelings, but lately, when the two of them ended up anywhere near one another, it was like magnets being pulled together, and she lost all sense of reason. It was like standing over a cauldron of Amorentia all the time, and the closer he got to her, the harder it was to pull away, but she had to. She needed to make it clear that they both had to be focused. For Harry.

* * *

 **August 1997**

There wasn't time to think much about their relationship, or whatever it could be called. They had a wedding to get dressed for. Hermione slipped into the lilac-coloured dress inside Ginny's room where the redhead was groaning about her own garment.

"I look like a nightmare," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Phlegm did this on purpose!"

"Ginny!" Hermione quietly scolded her. "Don't call her that anymore. She'll be your sister in less than an hour." She ran her hands down the front of her dress as if to wipe away any stray crease, and asked nervously, "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous." Ginny waved her hand as though Hermione should have already known it.

Hermione flushed a little in response, a look of unease on her face as she stepped into her heels. Before she left the room, she turned and looked for the small beaded bag that was sitting on her camp bed. Biting her lower lip in thought, she picked it up and whispered, "Just in case."

"Speak up, dear," Hermione heard the voice of an elderly woman as she left the room and looked across the way where Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Gabrielle, and an older witch were standing around a furious-looking Fleur.

"I said, merci, zank you for ze tiara," Fleur tried to speak slowly—the words pushing through her clenched teeth—as the old woman stared at her. There was a long pause as everyone turned their eyes to the older woman, who Hermione picked immediately to be the _infamous_ Auntie Muriel.

"Molly," Muriel said, turning to her niece, "doesn't the girl speak English? Merlin, what's William thinking?"

Mrs Weasley turned an apologetic glance to Fleur, who was clenching the tiara in her hands so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Hermione briefly recalled the Quidditch World Cup where the full-blooded veela had transformed into savage looking creatures, and wondered if Fleur was capable of something similar.

"Ginevra," Muriel said and then paused to look at the young redhead as she made for the door, "your dress is too low cut. You look like a scarlet woman."

"Muriel!" Mrs Weasley gasped.

Ginny looked murderous.

 _'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born? Bad posture and skinny ankles.'_ Muriel pointed at Hermione whose face turned bright pink as she was addressed by the old witch. Mrs Weasley offered an apologetic look to Hermione as she led Muriel out the door, which Hermione closed quickly behind her.

"Oh, my . . ."

Fleur bristled. "At least she did not say you had unpleasant looking birthing heeps."

"She _said_ that?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"If I knew what the old bat's will looked like, she wouldn't make it down the stairs," Ginny growled under her breath.

"Ignore her, Fleur." Hermione smiled and reached over to help the veela with the tiara. "You look beautiful," she said sweetly, only the smallest trace of jealousy in her voice. "I'll see you all downstairs," she said and squeezed Ginny's arm lightly in support before exiting the room, taking a few glances around before she quickly made her way down the stairs and out the door to the marquee.

 _"You look great!"_

Hermione blushed as she approached Ron and a well-disguised Harry. Her gaze immediately drew to Ron in _proper_ dress robes. She couldn't help but remember the ones he wore to the Yule Ball and how miserable he had been to wear them. _"Always the tone of surprise."_

She reached up and adjusted Ron's collar with a tender touch and an affectionate smile. "You look quite dashing," she whispered and, without catching herself before she did it, reached a finger up and brushed some of his hair from his face. She noticed the sudden change of colour in Ron's ears, and quickly changed the subject. _"Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree; I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, 'Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?' and then, 'Bad posture and skinny ankles.'"_

 _"Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," said Ron._

Fred and George quickly joined them, and for a few moments of enjoyable conversation, while Fred, George and Ron told tales about their departed Uncle Bilius, the group laughed and forgot that this wedding was a mere reprieve in the war they were supposed to be fighting.

 _"You look vunderful."_

Hermione hadn't heard the words, but she'd seen a sudden look of absolute fury paint across Ron's face. Worried that something horrible had happened, she turned to see Viktor Krum standing behind her. Eyes wide, she gasped and shrieked _, "Viktor!"_ and dropped her small beaded bag. Scrambling to pick it up, Hermione blushed—out of embarrassment more than anything else—and muttered, _"I didn't know you were . . . goodness . . . it's lovely to see . . . how are you?"_

 _"How come you're here?" Ron glared._

 _"Fleur invited me," said Krum, eyebrows raised._

Hermione tossed a desperate look to Harry and nodded her head to the side. He caught on quickly and, before Ron did anything abundantly stupid, Harry offered to show Viktor to his seat. Hermione watched carefully as the two of them walked away, and she reached a hand out to Ron's arm as if to steady him.

"What the hell was Fleur thinking?!" Ron shouted, his focus turning back to Hermione.

"Ron, don't," she begged him.

"Don't _what_? That great big git is here! Invited!"

"This is not about you," Hermione said reprovingly.

"No, it's about _you_ ," he corrected quickly but then seemed to immediately regret his choice of words.

She glowered at him. "I beg your pardon? How is this _my_ fault? _I_ didn't invite him. I haven't heard from or spoken to Viktor in . . ." She tried to think. "Well . . . a long time."

"But he . . ." Ron began to say, but Hermione had reached up, placing both of her hands on his cheeks which were flush with warmth from his anger.

" _He_ is not who I'm looking at right now," she said clearly and let the moment hang for as long as she possibly could. Ron's lips parted, and his mouth hung open as he stared down at her. "For the record," Hermione said as she let go of him, straightening her posture, "Ginny lied to you. I never snogged him."

"Why would I—" Ron muttered nervously as though he'd been caught doing something wrong.

Hermione continued to speak, ignoring his mumbling, "He kissed me once, it was awful, and we were both embarrassed," she admitted painfully. "His breath is quite horrible, to be honest." She would have laughed if it hadn't been such an awful moment. "He smelled like fish," she admitted with a wince, but that faded when she saw the hint of a smile on Ron's face.

"H-how's . . . mine?" he asked nervously.

"You smell like cake," she admitted with a smirk. "You _always_ smell like cake, Ronald. Now take me to my seat," she demanded. While everyone else in the room craned their necks to get a good look at Viktor Krum, Ron escorted Hermione to their seats next to Harry, his eyes on her.

"You _like_ cake, right?" Ron whispered to her as they sat down.

Hermione grinned but did not look at him as her face flushed pink. "I like cake."

After a few moments of silence, Ron leaned over to Harry and muttered, _"Did you see he's grown a stupid little beard?"_ with a look of smugness on his face as he gestured to Viktor.

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt. Hermione rolled her eyes.

* * *

Ron watched as his brother married Fleur, not paying much attention to the little wizard conducting the ceremony. He was happy to see Bill smile. After seeing his eldest brother in the hospital wing the night that Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts, Ron had been terrified that he'd never see Bill take another breath, let alone stand here today, a smile on his face as a beautiful girl agreed to devote herself to him, bonded for life. Ron felt a strange tug inside of him as he stared up at Fleur curiously. She was beautiful, but somehow he didn't feel the usual pull toward her. His gaze turned to Hermione, who was dabbing at her eyes with a small handkerchief, and he smiled.

 _"We should go and congratulate them!" said Hermione, standing on tiptoe to see the place where Bill and Fleur had vanished amid a crowd of well-wishers._

 _"We'll have time later," shrugged Ron, snatching three butterbeers from a passing tray and handing one to Harry. "Hermione, let's grab a table... Not there! Nowhere near Muriel."_

 _"All right if we join you?"_ Ron asked as the three of them approached an empty table save for Luna, who was wearing a bright yellow dress that matched the suit her father had on.

 _"Oh yes," she chirped. "Daddy's just gone to give Bill and Fleur our present."_

Luna eventually stood from the table and began swaying to the music, eyes closed, waving her arms above her head. Ron took a swig of his butterbeer and grinned. If anything, Luna was pure entertainment. _"She's great isn't she? Always good value."_

His smile faded instantly, and he placed his bottle of butterbeer down on the table as he looked across it where Viktor Krum had decided to take a seat next to Harry. Ron instinctively scooted closer to Hermione—possessively so—and he hoped she hadn't notice. She would not like to think that Ron thought of her as a thing that was exclusively his.

 _"Who is that man in the yellow?"_ Viktor asked, a scowl on his face.

 _"That's Xenophilius Lovegood, he's the father of a friend of ours," said Ron. His pugnacious tone indicated that they were not about to laugh at Xenophilius, despite the clear provocation."Come and dance," he added abruptly to Hermione._

 _She looked taken aback, but pleased too, and got up._

"Well done." Hermione laughed as Ron pulled her hand out onto the dance floor, tugging on her gently until they were far enough away from the table so that Harry and Viktor couldn't hear them speak, but close enough that Ron could keep his eyes on Viktor, which he was intent on doing.

"For what?" Ron asked her.

"For leaving before your temper got the best of you," she said, praising him with a smile. "I thought you didn't dance?"

"I . . . uh . . ." He'd almost forgotten the reason he'd given her for pulling away. "Well," he said, scratching his neck nervously. "I _did_ ask you to save a dance for me."

Hermione reached for his hand with hers, moving her other hand to his shoulder. Ron smiled and placed his free hand on the curve of her waist and, with a little moment of courage, he pulled her closer to him. She smiled, and he felt like someone was using the Imperius Curse on him. Everything felt light and airy, and any bit of worry or stress had vanished from inside of him as they moved along with the music. Everyone in their line of sight disappeared into a blur of motion around them.

"I should have done this years ago," Ron confessed.

"Doesn't matter now." Hermione shook her head, and he could feel her fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

He looked down shamefully. "It does. If I'd just gotten the nerve to ask you proper, then a lot of things could have been different." No Viktor Krum. No Lavender Brown. No Cormac McLaggen.

"I don't like rehashing the past," Hermione admitted sadly. "I'd rather put efforts into the future."

Ron pulled their connected hands close, holding hers against his chest as they continued to move. He wanted to let go, tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear as he'd done a year ago before screwing it up. He wanted a second chance to relive so many moments that he'd taken for granted. Moments he didn't finish right. But he wanted to desperately hold her close to him, just like this and tell her everything he felt. Suddenly, the worry, stress, and anxiety returned with a vengeance.

"What about the present?" He quietly asked her.

She frowned, tilting her head to look up at him. "It goes away too quickly. All this will be over soon." She broke his gaze and glanced down. "Ron, there's something I need to tell you."

He pulled her closer, his heart racing. He almost didn't care that his whole family would be watching. He was desperate for her; he felt that if he didn't tell her everything he'd been feeling for her all these years, that something inside of him would break. But he was shit with words. He leaned in closer and heard her gasp a little and pull away from him, a look of sadness in her eyes.

"Oh no . . . I didn't . . . I mean . . ." he tried to say before attempting to pull away from her but was surprised when she refused to let him go.

"No, don't," Hermione insisted, clinging to him tightly. "Don't go," she begged. "It's not that." Her lip quivered. "Ron . . ." She blinked away what looked to be the onset of approaching tears. She looked embarrassed, and Ron hesitated but pulled her back against him.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"I . . . we . . . we can't . . ."

"We?" Ron tried to clarify, but her words were driving nails into his chest and deflating everything good in the world.

"I don't know how _you_ feel, but—" she started to say.

"I'd like to think that you _do_ ," he said with a frown. His words only seemed to upset her more. How had he ruined this? He thought he was doing everything right for once.

"It's not you . . . it's—" she began.

"Viktor?" Ron let the name slip out of his mouth without thinking, and the immediate expression on her face told him he'd _definitely_ said the wrong thing.

The tears disappeared from her eyes. "Are you serious!?" she snapped angrily. "After everything we've been through, still . . . Viktor?"

"Well . . . what else is it? Why am I not good enough—?"

"Don't you dare!" she shouted. "Don't you _dare_ say that about yourself. If you say one more word like that, I'm going to start calling myself a Mudblood."

Ron's eyes widened in shock, and he swallowed hard, the mere mention of the word caused him to inhale sharply. "Don't," he said firmly.

"Then _you_ don't," she replied with just as much fervour. "It's not _you_ , Ron. It's _Harry_."

His eyes widened further, and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach.

Hermione appeared to immediately catch his change of demeanor, as she jumped right into a proper explanation. "No, no. Not like _that_. Ron, we have to leave soon. The three of us have a mission to accomplish, and it won't be easy. Harry's alone, and we need to be there for him. We can't let him down. We can't . . ." She brushed her fingers against the hair on the back of his neck again. "We can't be distracted."

"We won't," Ron promised her.

"Won't we?" she asked him with genuine concern. "Can you honestly tell me you're not distracted right now?"

He remained silent. She was right. When Hermione was in the room, everything paled in comparison. Even just then, standing in a room full of people chattering about, shouting congratulations to the bride and groom, yelling toasts and singing, Ron barely acknowledged their existence. In fact, he didn't even know where Harry was right then.

"You're right," he admitted, "but I don't want to—"

"I don't either." Hermione's lip quivered again. "We _have_ to. Someone has to. We have to make sacrifices so that our world has a future."

"What about the futures that _we_ want?" Ron asked her.

"We should fight for those too. Maybe something to look forward to, but not yet."

Not yet. Those were her words. She'd been clear, but not clear enough. She'd told him she didn't want him _yet_ , but she wanted _him_. Still, Ron couldn't help the voice in his head that told him they wouldn't make it to the end of this mission. That somehow between this beautiful moment and the end of this war—if there ever was one—he'd screw it up, and he'd lose her.

"One last dance then." He exhaled and pulled her close to him, as close as he could hold her without his mother gasping or his brothers stopping to take the piss out of him. He needed this moment to last for as long as it would take to finish this war. Hermione held close to him, and he could feel her sob softly against his chest.

All too quickly, the music stopped, and she pulled away, gently wiping her eyes and smiling brightly up at him. Ron returned the smile. "Come sit with me?"

Ron shook his head. "Umm . . . I'm going to grab some more butterbeers," he said, clearing his throat. "Just uh . . . I'll join you in a bit." He turned quickly away from her before she saw him break. He moved as fast as he could to the edge of the marquee, where he'd planned to run off and let out a good scream, curse You-Know-Who's name, and maybe kick something. Instead, at the edge of the large tent, he saw his brothers gathered together.

"There he is!" Fred grinned. "We were just getting ready to come break up the party."

George chuckled. "You looked mighty comfortable there with Granger."

"All right, all right, is it Ron's wedding or mine?" Bill smirked and held up a bottle of firewhiskey, pouring each of them a small shot glass full.

"One brother down," Charlie said with a laugh and held his glass up, "four to go."

"There're five of us left," Ron pointed out, despite the fact that Percy wasn't there.

Charlie tossed back his drink and winced a little at the obvious burn. "Yeah," he said, "but _I'm_ never getting married. That's for old men like him," he gestured to Bill, "and young prats like you." The five brothers all shared a laugh as they threw back the firewhisky, which somehow made Ron feel a bit better about the last few minutes on the dance floor.

"What's that?" he heard someone mutter, and all five Weasley brothers turned their attention upward to see a silver lynx fly into the marquee and land on the dance floor.

When the Patronus opened it's mouth, Kingsley's voice came out of it. " _The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_ The silver cat vanished and then Ron heard someone scream.

"Hermione," he whispered, dropped the glass in his hand, and reached for his wand as he rushed through the crowd. Bill followed at his side, searching quickly for Fleur while Charlie, Fred, and George each brandished their wands and dove into the fray.

Guests began Disapparating immediately, and Ron panicked as he heard more screaming.

"Hermione!"

 _"Ron!" Hermione cried. "Ron, where are you?"_

"Harry! Hermione!"

Then he saw them: masked figures appearing in the crowd; Death Eaters. Suddenly, lights burst from all around him. Flashes of red and green flew overheard, and he heard shouts of protection shields, curses, hexes, and jinxes.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione called, half sobbing.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted as he spotted her and rushed forward to grab hold of her arm as tightly as he could. He gratefully saw Harry already on her other side. They were together. The three of them like always. Sight and sound extinguished as the air pressed out of his lungs, and then there was nothing but blackness and silence as Hermione Side-Along Apparated them away from the Burrow.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

* * *

 **August 1997**

 _"Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched."_

Ron felt sick as the adrenaline finally began easing off. From the moment Kingsley's Patronus had appeared at the Burrow, to the instant that his _father's_ Patronus vanished at Grimmauld Place, it felt like one long fight. Death Eaters had broken up the wedding, attacking his family and friends. He, Harry, and Hermione had barely escaped, only to be somehow followed and attacked inside that small diner.

At least he knew now: his family was okay.

Unfortunately, Ron didn't know if he, Harry, and Hermione were okay. He was desperate to send a message to his parents to let them know that they'd made it out all right, but not only did Ron not know how to summon a messenger Patronus, his father had specifically said _not_ to reply. This was it. This was the beginning of the end.

The hunt had begun.

Hermione sighed. "He's having the visions again. He's looking into Vol—"

"Don't say it!" Ron blurted out, his eyes pleading with her. Hermione frowned at him. "Please."

She eventually nodded and moved to sit beside him on the sofa. "They're okay, Ron. Your family is safe."

"Are _you_ okay?" He turned his eyes to her, finally able to look at her clearly for the first time since they'd arrived. Everything up until that moment had felt like such a rush, and he was finally able to breathe steadily.

Hermione smiled but did not answer his question. He understood. They were safe here at Grimmauld Place, for now, but saying that any of them were "okay" was a stretch. They had a mission set ahead of them: hunting down and destroying Horcruxes, on the run, while the Ministry fell under You-Know-Who's control, and everyone they knew had probably gone into hiding.

"You've been hurt," Ron muttered and reached up to brush his knuckles against her face, under where a small cut lined her cheek bone.

"Am I?" She winced a little. "Didn't even feel it until just now." She frowned and reached for her beaded bag, pulling out a small brown bottle that Ron had seen before in his mum's medikit. "Dittany," Hermione said and unstoppered the bottle. She pushed herself up from the couch, and Ron reached out and caught her wrist.

"I'll do it," he said, taking her hand and pulling her back down beside him. "Let's give Harry some time alone." He gestured in the direction of the bathroom where he'd assumed Hermione had been heading. Taking the small bottle in his hands, Ron pulled out the dropper and held it up to Hermione's face, allowing one drop to fall against the cut, which instantly began to mend itself together. She winced and he smiled apologetically, brushing his thumb over the cut lightly to make sure the Dittany was evenly distributed.

"There." He smiled and tightened the cap back on the bottle. "I don't think it'll even scar."

"What about your leg?" Hermione frowned as she looked down at the denim of his trousers which were torn and spotted with blood.

Ron shrugged. "It'll be all right."

"I'm so sorry. I can't believe I missed that spell."

"It's okay," he promised her, tearing the cut of the trouser leg open a little more to observe the wound. "See? It's already closed." She'd already twisted the cap off the bottle of Dittany, ignoring him. "Don't," Ron insisted. "We shouldn't waste that. Who knows how many injuries we'll have to treat while we're on the run. Or even just being in this house." He'd never liked Grimmauld Place much; everything was cold, sharp, and dark. It was the opposite of the Burrow, which was warm, soft, and bright. "Worried I might get dragon pox if I scrape up against the furniture." He chuckled nervously.

Hermione smirked. "More likely tetanus."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed with sudden concerned.

"Something I'm guessing your mum kept Dittany on hand for," she said with a small smile. "I'm not leaving this untreated." Her smile faded as she frowned at the cut on his leg. He struggled to move away from her, but she put her hand on his thigh to stop him from getting up. "It's my fault, let me fix it, please." Ron relented, allowing her to place two drops of the Dittany on the cut that had resulted in a misaimed Diffindo from Hermione's wand back at the diner.

Ron stared at her as she tended to him. "Don't be too hard on yourself, 'Mione. You were brilliant with that Memory Charm, and you petrified that ugly one.".

"Dolohov," Hermione said angrily under her breath. "He's the one who gave me this." She gestured to her rib cage where the scar from the Department of Mysteries fiasco remained.

" _That's_ the Death Eater who cursed you?!" Suddenly, the adrenaline rushed back into him. "We just left him there?" He had already forgotten their reason for doing so. Protection? They needed to remain undetected, as though Dolohov and Rowle had never spotted them.

"Calm down," Hermione said softly, putting the closed bottle of Dittany back in her bag and reaching for Ron's hands, that were clenched tight and shaking. "We're fine. We escaped; that's what matters."

"But—" Ron scrunched up his face in anger.

Hermione squeezed his hands. "We're not on a mission for revenge here. We're trying to end this war."

"I know," he said and looked down, feeling the anger lift from him slowly, to be replaced with worry and unease. "I know."

"We should change." Hermione stood up, releasing Ron's hands. "Here," she said, reaching into her bag, withdrawing a small pile of clothes, handing a few items from the top of it to him.

He instantly recognised his favourite Chudley Cannons t-shirt and smiled. "That's too small for me. Hasn't fit for a few months now."

"Oh, I didn't realise. I just knew you liked it." Hermione blushed a little and moved to put it back in the bag.

"You keep it. It'll fit you nice. You need to learn how to get excited about Quidditch at some point, Hermione," he said with a grin. "Might as well pick the best team."

Hermione eyed him. "I thought the Canonns were usually last?"

His smile faded only slightly and he shrugged. "Same difference."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled up at him as she reached back into the bag and snatched up another t-shirt for Ron to wear. "This one okay?"

He took the shirt with a crooked smile. "It's not too small and it's not maroon. It's great."

"I'll go take these to Harry." She stood and walked out of the room with the small pile of clothes. Once she was out of sight, Ron began to undress, kicking his torn and bloody jeans into the corner of the room. Once in comfortable, clean clothes, he opened Hermione's bag and pointed his wand into it. " _Accio_ sleeping bags!"

* * *

Harry came into the room first, dressed in clean clothes, and looked down at the unrolled sleeping bags on the floor, save for Hermione's, which was lying on top of what looked to be the couch cushions. He suspiciously eyed Ron who shrugged.

"What?"

"Nothing." Harry smirked innocently as he crawled into his own sleeping bag next to Ron's.

Ron slipped into his bag, looking up as Hermione walked into the room and spotted her sleeping area all set up for her.

"Ron?" She blinked. "You didn't have to do this," she said, referencing the cushions with a tender smile.

"You take care of us the rest of the time." He shrugged and she silently thanked him with a soft smile as she crawled into her sleeping bag next to him. "You umm . . ." He smiled nervously. "You look good." He gestured to the Cannon's t-shirt that she was now wearing. It fit her almost snugly, which made him wonder how long it had been since he'd worn it himself. Thinking back, he remembered that he didn't even try to put it on after Lavender had returned it. She'd stolen it out of his trunk, and he'd been furious with her. He made a mental note to never mention to Hermione that his ex-girlfriend had worn it.

"Thank you." Hermione blushed before a look of great hesitation came over her face. "Ron, what we talked about . . . at the wedding . . ." she began.

"It's okay, Hermione. We don't need to revisit that." He frowned a little and then clicked the Deluminator, sucking all the light out of the room in an instant. He didn't need to hear again how they couldn't be together because of Harry and the mission they were on. She'd said that they were fighting for a future. The future he was fighting for was hopefully one he could share with her. He could wait.

Though, in the darkness, Ron felt Hermione's small hand reach out for his. His heart clenched a little at the gesture, and he instantly laced his fingers with hers. In the pitch black room, Ron brought her hand close to him and brushed his lips against it. He could hear Hermione suck in a sharp breath, but she didn't pull away. He smiled and closed his eyes, quickly finding sleep, her hand still held gently within his own.

* * *

Days at Grimmauld Place were spent waiting for Kreacher to return with Mundungus in the hopes that they could use him to locate the locket. Death Eaters had been stationed outside in front of the building, constantly staring in betweens numbers eleven and thirteen. Harry spent his days locked away in Sirius's old room. With nothing else to do, _restless and irritable, Ron had developed an annoying habit of playing with the Deluminator in his pocket; This particularly infuriated Hermione, who was whiling away the wait for Kreacher by studying The Tales of Beedle the Bard and did not appreciate the way the lights kept flashing on and off._

 _"Will you stop it!" she cried on the third evening of Kreacher's absence, as all the light was sucked from the drawing room yet again._

 _"Sorry, sorry!" said Ron, clicking the Deluminator and restoring the lights. "I don't know I'm doing it!"_

 _"Well, can't you find something useful to occupy yourself?"_

 _"What, like reading kids' stories?"_

 _"Dumbledore left me this book, Ron."_

 _"And he left me the Deluminator, maybe I'm supposed to use it!"_

Things only got worse when Lupin appeared with news of Harry officially being a wanted fugitive, and the Ministry setting up a Muggle-born Registration Commission.

 _Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, "What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin."_

 _Hermione covered Ron's hand with hers and squeezed it._

 _"Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you."_

 _"You won't have a choice," said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. "I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."_ If Malfoy's opinions on Muggle-borns and what should be done with them was any indication on how the other Death Eaters and You-Know-Who felt, then Ron knew Hermione was in genuine danger. He couldn't let anything happen to her. Not after everything they'd been through.

There was little chance to focus on what the Ministry was up to. Lupin had dropped a bomb on them. Tonks was pregnant and he was ready to leave her with her parents to go on the run with the three of them. Ron had to admit, his help would be indispensable, but Harry had been clear: no one else could know about the Horcruxes. Ron had to trust that Harry knew what he was doing. The idea of a father abandoning their child for _any_ reason had sparked something in Harry, and before either of them could say anything to stop them, Harry and Lupin were at one another's throats before the werewolf stormed out of the house.

 _"Harry!" wailed Hermione. "How could you?"_

 _"Don't look at me like that!" he snapped at Hermione._

 _"Don't you start on her!" snarled Ron._

 _"No, no, no, we mustn't fight!" said Hermione, launching herself between them._

 _"I know I shouldn't have called him a coward."_

 _"No, you shouldn't," said Ron at once._

He wasn't a father; he didn't have a wife, but Ron had done exactly what Remus had tried to do: left behind his family in the hopes that the mission was more important. Did that make him a coward? Harry had nothing to lose. No parents, no real family. Hermione had been braver than any of them by removing herself from her parents' lives. Had Ron been the one to take the cowardly route and leave the Burrow behind in an attempt to stick with Harry and Hermione? What was his family doing now? Would he have been able to do more had he stayed with them?

* * *

Remus wasn't the only visitor to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher finally caught up with Mundungus, and soon the trio had information that they needed, though at this point it wasn't necessarily what they wanted. The locket had been located, and now they needed to infiltrate the Ministry in order to get it from Dolores Umbridge.

Ron clicked the Deluminator stealing the lights from the drawing room as he and Hermione crawled into their sleeping bags. Harry had once again taken to Sirius's room, leaving the two of them alone. Had they not been in the midst of a war and preparing for an undercover mission into the Ministry of Magic, Ron would have been overjoyed at the opportunity of alone time with Hermione without the presence of Harry. Unfortunately, the situation was not a bright one, and so Ron and Hermione stayed there in silence. After quite a long time, Ron sighed.

"You awake?"

"Yes." Hermione exhaled. "Can't sleep."

"What're you thinking about?"

"How impossible it's going to be to get into the Ministry and get that locket from that . . . that," Hermione growled, "that awful woman."

"I don't want you to do it," Ron muttered. It had been a thought he had been holding in since Mundungus had given them the information that led to Dolores Umbridge.

"I'm not staying behind," Hermione insisted.

"She tried to use the Cruciatus on Harry," Ron reminded her. "She made him cut into his own hand. You can still see the scars."

"I don't want to talk about this." Hermione's tone was firm. In the dark, Ron could almost see her cross her hands defiantly over her chest. There was silence again and, after a few minutes, Hermione spoke, "We have to all go."

"'Mione, I just don't want to see you get—"

"I know," she admitted, "but we all have to. Harry needs us."

"I _know_ ," Ron groaned and rubbed his face in frustration.

"For the record," Hermione whispered, "I wish you didn't have to go either. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Little late for that. In the years we've known Harry, I've had multiple concussions, broke my leg, and got attacked by a brain; I've been hexed, cursed, jinxed, and poisoned," he said with a laugh, trying to break the tension.

"Don't laugh about that!"

"I'll be fine," Ron promised her, reaching out for her hand in the darkness. "We'll _all_ be fine," he quietly tried to promise himself but wasn't able to hear the conviction of his own words.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

* * *

 **September 1997**

The blackness swallowed them whole and, as the image of Grimmauld Place seemed to come into focus, Hermione could feel Yaxley gripping onto her. _No, no, no. Not safe_. She shook him off, but it was too late; he'd seen their one and only safe house, and now it was compromised. She tried to think of a safe place, but all she could think about were Death Eaters. Somehow, it reminded her of the first time she saw them all in their masks at the Quidditch World Cup.

Light burst into her eyes, and she glanced at the empty forest around them. This was the place. They'd been there before years earlier, although instead of tents and wizards surrounding them brandishing flags and banners of their supporting Quidditch teams, all she saw was a vast emptiness filled with a sun that was trying to break through the cluster of trees that surrounded them. Hermione heard a pained groan, and she turned on the spot to find Ron on the ground, blood-soaked.

"Ron!" she screamed and rushed to his side. His face was draining of colour fast, and his eyes were open, but all she could see were the whites. She scanned his body with focused attention to find the source of the bleed, which wasn't hard: his left sleeve was drenched in blood. With a gentle wave of her wand—not wanting to hurt him more—she tore through the sleeve of his jumper and gasped at the sight of his arm. A great chunk of his skin and muscle was missing as though scooped away with a knife, and the wound was bleeding profusely.

"No, no, no," Hermione cried. "Ron!"

She pulled her jacket quickly off, pushing it against his open wound in an effort to stop the bleeding. He writhed on the ground next to her, clearly in agony.

"Ron," she pleaded with him, touching her hand to his face. His eyes appeared as though he were trying to find a focus. "Ron, stay with me!"

"'Mione?" he whimpered.

 _"What's happened to him?" Harry's voice broke through._

 _"Splinched," said Hermione as she tore open Ron's shirt to get better access to the wound. "Harry, quickly, in my bag, there's a small bottle labelled 'Essence of Dittany'. Quickly!"_

As Harry went to fetch the dittany, Hermione placed her hands on Ron's cheeks and begged him to look at her. "Ron, please, stay with me." Tears flooded her cheeks. "Please," she whimpered, her hands trembling as she looked at the amount of blood he was losing that she couldn't seem to stop on her own. He was quickly shedding the polyjuiced image of Reg Cattermole, and now he looked completely like Ron again. _Her_ Ron.

 _"He's fainted," said Hermione, who was also rather pale; she no longer looked like Mafalda, though her hair was still grey in places. "Unstopper it for me, Harry, my hands are shaking."_

Hermione tended to the wound, wincing as she dropped the dittany on it and green smoke appeared. Ron's body flinched in response, and a new set of tears fell from her eyes. He was in pain, and it was _her_ fault. _She'd_ done this to him. Unable to do anything more to help, Hermione could only hope that he hadn't lost too much blood. There would be a scar for certain. Her shaking hands touched down the rest of his arm where the scars from the brain attack remained and, littered among them, were small, permanent peck marks from the canaries she had set on him the year before. Now the splinching would be one more scar that he would have for the rest of his life—because of her.

 _Eventually, Ron groaned and opened his eyes. He was still grey, and his face glistened with sweat._

 _"How d'you feel?" Hermione whispered._

 _"Lousy," croaked Ron, wincing as he felt his injured arm. "Where are we?"_

 _"In the woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup,"_ said Hermione. "Harry get the tent from my bag. We can't leave here, not until . . ." she glanced down at Ron, who seemed to understand. Not until he was well enough to travel.

"I'll help," Ron made to sit up.

"Don't you dare," Hermione pushed him back down gently. "Just lay there until we can set up camp." She wiped her eyes quickly, knowing that if she took another second to apologise to him, she would end up crying all over again.

" _If we're staying, we should put some protective enchantments around the place."_ Hermione stood and walked a short distance away and began muttering spells. _"Salvio Hexia . . . Protego Totalum . . . Repello Muggletum . . . Muffliato . . ."_

With the tent erected, Harry and Hermione helped Ron inside, lying him down onto the lower berth of a bunk bed where he almost immediately fell asleep. Hermione perched herself on the end of the bed, watching him closely, hoping that his colour would return soon.

Harry seemed to understand that Hermione wasn't willing to leave Ron's side just yet, so he slipped the Horcrux locket around his neck and walked over, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Get some rest, Hermione. I'll take first watch," he said, and then he turned and walked out of the tent.

Left alone with an unconscious Ron and silence, Hermione broke into tears again. When she moved to wipe her eyes, she looked down at her hands and only then realised they were stained with dried blood. Horrified, she rushed into the bathroom where she washed her hands until they felt raw to the touch. Finally clean, Hermione leant down and splashed cold water on her face, taking in deep breaths to calm down. The pool of blood stained water in the sink drained away.

With a large bowl she'd found under a cabinet in the small kitchen, Hermione sat back down on the edge of Ron's bed with a flannel in hand. " _Aguamenti_." She pointed her wand at the bowl, and a stream of water filled it quickly. She soaked the cloth in the clean water and wrung it out before turning her attention to Ron's body. His eyes were still closed and his face pale, contrasting against the dark red hair that hung against his forehead. His bared chest and arm were covered in dried blood and dirt.

As gently as possible, Hermione placed the flannel on his chest and began wiping at the blood and dirt, leaving behind a trail of clean, freckled skin. She continued to clean, bending down to the bowl of water every few minutes to rinse and wring out the flannel again and again. She moved back to his chest, cloth in hand, and stopped when she noticed his eyes were open, and he was staring at her. Relieved to see him awake and somewhat alert, Hermione barely had time to feel the flush in her cheeks as his gaze bore into her, and he swallowed hard as he watched her hands move forward to continue washing him.

She never took her eyes off of his as she moved, watching closely to make sure she wasn't hurting him. His breathing increased, and he licked his lips. She saw his free and uninjured arm move and felt his knuckles brush against her leg. Hermione closed her eyes at the touch. When she opened them again, she looked down at his chest, realising it was now completely clean. She pulled the flannel off of him, dropping it into the bowl and hesitated before placing her palm down against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered and, as expected, her eyes began to water.

"Don't." Ron shook his head and swallowed. "Not now," he tried to explain and, as she tried to pull her hand off of his chest, he moved his injured arm to stop her and let out a hiss of pain.

"Don't move," she instructed firmly.

"Then _you_ don't move," he insisted with a furrowed brow.

Hesitantly, Hermione put her hand back on his chest and instantly felt his heart beat hard against her palm. His other hand touched her leg again, his thumb brushing circles against her knee. Subconsciously, Hermione's own hand copied his movements, and her thumb brushed against the skin of his chest. He inhaled sharply, and she winced and pulled away from him, assuming that she'd caused him pain. Irritated by this, he reached his good arm upward, gripping her shoulder and pulling hard until she lost her balance and fell against him.

Hermione gasped and braced her hands against his chest. Ron's jaw tensed, and he removed his hand from her shoulder to brush away the hair from her neck, tucking it behind her ear and then threading his fingers through her locks until he was gently cupping the back of her neck. His eyes were fierce and blazing, and Hermione blushed, desperate to look away from him lest she lose control. And she _had_ to be in control.

"Ron . . . we . . . I . . ." She swallowed hard. "You shouldn't be—"

"Well, I've lost a lot of blood," he said with a grin. "I don't reckon I'm in my right mind."

"One of us should be," Hermione whispered.

He could feel her breath against his jaw. "I really wish you wouldn't," he admitted honestly, but then a shiver covered his body, reminding him of his injury.

Hermione reacted immediately. "Are you cold?" She pulled away, and Ron let out a defeated groan as he watched her stand up and walk over to a large armchair where several blankets sat. She unfolded one and returned, unfolding it down gently over him. "You should get some rest." She leant down and brushed his hair off of his forehead.

"Stay," Ron pleaded with her as sleep crept up on him again.

Hermione frowned and hesitated, but the desperate look on his face crumbled her resolve. She gave one glance to the door of the tent and then turned back to crawl in next to Ron. He let out a deep sigh of relief and opened his good arm to wrap around her shoulder, pulling her tight against his still shivering body. She slowly tucked her head into the curve of his arm, resting her hand once more against his broad chest, now covered by the blanket.

"Stay," she heard him whisper again and felt the pull of his arm against her relax, and his breathing became shallow as he fell to sleep. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and finally allowed herself relax. This was exactly what she'd meant when she told him at the wedding that they couldn't afford any distractions. But with Ron's body next to hers, injured but alive, she couldn't help but cling to him with all she had, willing them both to survive this war.

Hours later, Hermione opened her eyes to find that she'd fallen asleep beside him. A blanket now covered them both, and she couldn't help but assume that Harry had done it. Which meant that he'd seen them together, a situation that Hermione had been purposely trying to avoid. She needed Harry to know that both she and Ron were dedicated to the hunt, and they wouldn't allow one another to distract from their mission. But, as she looked down at Ron's sleeping face, she couldn't readily admit if that were still the case.

Slowly and carefully, she sat up and wiggled out of his grasp, which was tight around her despite being asleep, injured, and only one good arm. Before she pulled herself away completely, Hermione turned her eyes back to him, leant close down and brushed her lips tenderly against the skin of his cheek. His skin was warm again, which made her let out a grateful sigh of relief.

Hermione stood, stretched, and turned to the door of the tent, where she saw a shadow of something shaking near the ground. Pulling out her wand quickly, she carefully approached the door and flung it open. On the ground was Harry, asleep and thrashing.

She dropped to her knees immediately and shook his body, shouting his name repeatedly. "Harry! Harry!"

Finally, his eyes opened.

 _"Dream," he said, sitting up quickly and attempting to meet Hermione's glower with a look of innocence. "Must've dozed off, sorry."_

 _"I know it was your scar! I can tell by the look on your face! You were looking into Vol— "_

 _"Don't say his name!" came Ron's angry voice from the depths of the tent._

Hermione's eyes shot up wide at the tent. He'd been awake. She narrowed her brown eyes into slits as if her glare could bore its way through the canvas and scold Ron for feigning sleep while she kissed him. No wonder his grip on her had been so difficult to escape.

 _"Fine," retorted Hermione, "You-Know-Who's mind, then!"_

 _"I didn't mean it to happen!" Harry said. "It was a dream! Can you control what you dream about, Hermione?"_

 _"If you just learned to apply Occlumency..."_

 _"He's found Gregorovitch, Hermione, and I think he's killed him, but before he killed him he read Gregorovitch's mind, and I saw..."_

 _"I think I'd better take over the watch if you're so tired you're falling asleep," said Hermione coldly._

 _"I can finish the watch!"_

 _"No, you're obviously exhausted. Go and lie down."_

* * *

They each took their turn keeping watch the following days. Once Ron had recovered enough to travel, the trio Disapparated to a new location and once again set up their magical boundaries surrounding the tent. Once it was discovered that the locket was having a profound effect on Harry, it was decided that they would each take turns bearing the weight of the Horcrux. Days stretched into weeks, and the exhaustion that came from constant vigilance was breaking them all. Not only that but the little food they were able to scrounge up left them often near starvation, something that took its toll on Ron a lot more than the other two, especially when it came time for his turn to wear the locket.

It was easily noted how it affected them all. Harry, when wearing it, would become defeated and pessimistic, unable to even cast a Patronus. Hermione would grow irritable over the smallest slight, and it was obvious that she was terrified, unable to hide her fear from the other two. Ron, however, turned to anger and bitterness quickly.

All three became slowly suspicious of the other two. When Hermione wore the locket and Harry and Ron walked away from her, she assumed that they were lazy, leaving all the work for her to do. They'd insist on going hunting for food, but when they would come back empty-handed, she blamed them for slacking off. Upon the removal of the locket, she would shake the feelings of anger off, understanding taking its place. Food was scarce, and she could not expect them to do much better than her, especially in the exhaustive state they were all in.

Ron's jealous anger, however, remained with him for a while after the Horcrux was removed. He watched closely as Harry and Hermione discussed tactics and potential locations for other Horcruxes, but instead of listening to their words, he put a great deal of focus on their bodies, movements, and gestures. Any comforting glance Hermione tossed Harry's way was met with a bitter feeling in Ron's stomach. He remembered Hermione sleeping against his side in his bed, his good arm snaked around her waist, her hands pressed tightly against his chest. She'd woken and kissed his cheek, and he felt his spirits rise despite the pain in his injured shoulder.

But now, as he looked on while Harry and Hermione walked steps in front of him as they travelled, Ron could hear words in his head, telling him that she'd kissed him out of pity. And what a pitiful creature he was. Injured, pathetic, and unable to help them with anything. Maybe Hermione had felt something for him at some point in the past, but now without the ability to properly contribute, she'd attached herself to Harry's side. The Chosen One's side. Harry would save the day and, in the end, it would be Harry who got the girl. Ron bristled with anger at the thought. It made him think of Ginny, and he began to question the real reason that Harry had broken his little sister's heart. That only made him long for home all the more, his parents, his siblings, the comforts of his own bed and his mum's cooking.

There'd been a mild reprieve in his angry thoughts when they had secretly come across another group of travellers, including Tonks's father, a pair of goblins, and Dean Thomas. Ron had wanted to seek the other group out, find out more information about Hogwarts and Ginny and his family, but Harry and Hermione had clung to the information they'd overheard about the sword of Gryffindor instead.

 _"Think!" whispered Hermione. "Think! Where would he have left it?"_

 _"Not at Hogwarts," said Harry, resuming his pacing._

 _"Somewhere in Hogsmeade?" suggested Hermione._

 _"The Shrieking Shack?" said Harry. "Nobody ever goes in there."_

 _"So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then? What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?" Harry looked around._

 _"Oh, remembered me, have you?" he said._

 _"What?"_

 _Ron snorted as he stared up at the underside of the upper bunk._

 _"You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."_

 _"Well, you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"_

 _Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He looked mean, unlike himself._

 _"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."_

 _"I don't know?" repeated Harry. "I don't know?"_

 _"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," said Ron, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running 'round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."_

 _"Ron," Hermione said, but in such a quiet voice that Ron could pretend not to have heard it over the loud tattoo the rain was beating on the tent._ She tried to interject something between the two, but thunder struck overhead, and the loud noises of the storm outside rivalled the near violent outbursts between Ron and Harry. Their voices were quickly rising, and Hermione could see a hateful look in Ron's eyes as he turned on Harry, unable to meet her gaze.

Lightning flashed behind them, and Hermione saw the glimmer of the locket beneath Ron's shirt. Immediately, she made her way to him, reaching out _. "Take off the locket, Ron. Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."_

He ignored her words and, as her fingers touched his chest, he pushed her away. Harry was ignited by the action, and the fight resumed. Hermione, undeterred by Ron's defences, moved to him again and tried to pry herself between the boys, taking Ron's face in her hands and pleading with him to look into her eyes. "Ron, please take it off," she begged him, but once again he pushed her away, this time with much more vigour.

 _"So why are you still here?" Harry asked Ron._

 _"Search me," said Ron._

 _"Go home then," said Harry._

 _"Yeah, maybe I will!" shouted Ron._

 _"No!" Hermione shouted_

 _"It's all right for you, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way... "_

 _"My parents are dead!" Harry bellowed._

 _"And mine could be going the same way!" yelled Ron._

 _"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you're got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and..."_

 _Ron made a sudden movement: Harry reacted, but before either wand was clear of its owner's pocket, Hermione had raised her own._

 _"Protego!" she cried_ , tears spilling down her cheeks.

An invisible shield expanded between Harry and Ron and, as her eyes met the latter, she noted the expression on his face as she realised that she'd positioned herself on _Harry's_ side of the shield, effectively separating herself from Ron. He glared at her in response, and something broke inside of her. She wanted to run to him, rip the locket off, but she wasn't just protecting Harry from Ron. A brief look at her best friend could tell her that Harry was just as eager to attack.

 _"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said._

Ron glared at him and removed the chain from around his neck. Hermione felt momentary relief, hoping that he would immediately see clear and apologies could be made between them all. But his eyes only blazed further and suddenly, his attention drew toward her, and she noticed his hand held outward in her direction as if beckoning her.

 _"What are you doing?"_

 _"What do you mean?" Her eyes widened._

 _"Are you staying, or what?"_

 _"I . . ."_ A part of her was desperate to leave with him, though she didn't know where they would go. Back to the Burrow? But what if they were caught? They were already on the run, what chances did they have without Harry? No. This war needed to end. She had a reason to keep fighting, and that reason had been him. _"Yes . . . yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry; we said we'd help . . ."_

 _"I get it. You choose him."_

 _"Ron, no . . . please . . . come back, come back!"_ She tore after him but was stopped by her own shield. " _Finite_!" she shouted and dove through the door of the tent into the downpour, screaming after him. "Ron!" She ran as she caught a brief glimpse of his red hair in the momentary flash of lightning. "Ron, stay! Ron, please don't leave me!" she screamed, tears and rain soaking her face. She ran, reaching out for him, but before she could touch him, he Disapparated before her eyes.

"No . . ." she whimpered. "No."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

* * *

 **September 1997**

 _"Ron, please don't leave me!"_

He didn't even realise he'd done it until the raining scene in front of him was sucked into blackness. When he reappeared, the sky was clear and the ground dry beneath his feet. _No._ What had he done? Ron's eyes widened, and instinctively he called out, "Hermione!" His gut wrenched, and he sank to his knees in a panic when he was met with silence.

"No, no, no," he muttered. "Got to get back." He closed his eyes and gripped his wand tightly. "Focus!" he yelled at himself, trying to calm down enough to properly Disapparate without splinching. When a sharp pain knocked him to the ground, he thought he'd done just that, but he opened his eyes, and the scene in front of him hadn't changed.

"Oi! Look what I've got!" someone shouted behind him. "Whatchu think boys? Does he look of Hogwarts age? Yeah?" A pair of large hands tore Ron's wand from him, and another lifted him up.

Ron realised quickly he was surrounded. His eyes narrowed into slits as he demanded, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"That's our question, mate." The smallest of the bunch sneered at him. "Who are _you_?"

"Stan Shunpike," Ron answered without thinking, hoping that his quick reply wouldn't give away the obvious lie.

"From the Knight Bus?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded quickly. "You lot looking for Hogwarts students? I ain't been one for years now," he said clearly, though a part of him was still shaking, unaware who the attackers were.

"I dunno . . ." The small one focused his attention on Ron's face. "I been on the Knight Bus once, and I think I'd remember—"

"He's Shunpike all right," another said behind him. "Course, that bloke ain't been seen in a while. I heard rumours he skipped out on Death Eaters."

"That true there, Stan?" the small man asked him with a grin.

"I . . ." Ron didn't know how to answer. He knew that Stan had been Imperiused, but without knowing everything about his attackers, he couldn't say what side Stan was supposedly on.

"Keep him. If he's who he says he is, he's a runaway Death Eater. They'll pay us good coin to return him I bet." The man grinned, and Ron growled in response, thrashing a bit against the arms that held him tightly.

Another one spoke behind Ron. "What if he ain't Stan? Then what'll we do with him?"

"We still keep him, you git!"

"Watch yer tone!" a third man snapped and appeared in front of Ron, holding in his tight grip was Ron's wand.

Ron's eyes locked on the sight of his wand and, without thinking, he sunk an elbow into the stomach of the man holding him, instinctively reaching for a pocket where he retrieved a black wand. " _Expelliarmus_!" Ron cried out, and his own wand flew into his palm.

"Get him!"

Before anyone could touch him again, Ron Disapparated.

He winced in pain as he appeared elsewhere. Looking down at his hand he grimaced; two fingers were badly bleeding, and he realised quickly that they were missing the fingernails. "Shit!" Ron shouted and tried to press his splinched fingers against his shirt to stop the bleeding. He blinked, looking around and was grateful to see the rain. However, as his attention drew to the surroundings, he realised that he hadn't Apparated back to Harry and Hermione, just within the same area.

Ron moved quickly through the woods, unaware of the rising sun in the distance. Fatigue was crippling him as he walked, desperate for a sign of his friends. The trees were a blur, and he couldn't tell if he was walking in circles until he found a small stream that had overflowed from the storm.

Hours passed, and the rain began clearing up. Ron was soaked to the bone, shivering as he moved. His shoulder still throbbed with pain. When the stream eventually broke into a full riverbank, he smiled as he realised where he was.

"Hermione!" he yelled, but no response came. "Harry!"

Silence.

He paused to quietly and desperately listen, and he thought in the far distance he heard the echoing CRACK of someone Disapparating.

"No." Ron's eyes widened, and he broke into a run, forgetting for a moment how badly his legs hurt. He followed the river until it broke once again, this time into a familiar—though empty—clearing. "No, no," he whimpered. "Hermione."

They were gone.

He'd left them and they, in turn, had left entirely.

There was no hope now. They could be anywhere.

He fell to the ground in a pile of pathetic tears, punching the ground with a tightly balled fist in anger. He cursed the locket, himself, and You-Know-Who. What was he going to do without Harry and Hermione? He thought of the Burrow and seeing his family, but the idea of the look on his mum's face when he'd told her what he'd done caused guilt to well up inside of him, threatening to drown him in it. Nowhere was safe now. No one would forgive him for this.

Except maybe . . .

He thought long and hard, and he focused as desperately as he could as he thought, _Shell Cottage_.

Ron didn't remember arriving other than the blurry image of a small cottage against the backdrop of sand and sky. He tried to walk forward but suddenly the prospect of telling Bill what he'd done became too much, and his knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the ground, sobbing bitter tears. Waves crashed somewhere in the distance, and Ron would have given anything in the world for those waves to be replaced by the sound of raindrops. He wanted a Time-Turner so he could go back and prevent himself from leaving them—leaving her—alone in the middle of a storm.

"Ron? Ron is that you!?"

He couldn't move. It was too painful to admit that time was continuing forward and not moving back, allowing him to fix the greatest mistake of his life.

"Fleur!"

The voice sounded like it was echoing in his head, and suddenly he felt his head being propped up. His blue eyes looked into a near mirror his own, but with less devastation and more concern.

"Ron?" Bill stared down into his baby brother's face. "Ron what happened? Where are Harry and Hermione?"

At the sound of their names, Ron shut his eyes, unable to look at his brother.

"Fleur, we need to contact the Order," Bill called back to his wife.

The words breathed life back into Ron's helpless body. "No!" he shouted, reaching up and taking hold of Bill's robes. "No, they can't know," he pleaded. "Bill, they can't know what I've done."

"Bill?" Fleur slowly stepped closer to her husband and looked down at Ron kneeling before them both, a desperate man. "Bill, we must get him inside," she said, touching his shoulder. "He iz not well." She knelt down and helped Ron to stand and, between Bill and Fleur, he made it into the small warm cottage and sank onto a couch in the middle of the room.

"Sweetheart," Bill called to his wife. "Get him some tea." He turned to address his brother, scanning Ron and taking notice of the weight his brother had lost in such a short amount of time. He took notice of the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the blood on his clothes. "Ron?" Bill spoke slowly. "What happened to Harry and Hermione?"

Ron looked up and bit back the full truth, unable to stomach it all. "They're alive," he said, hoping that it would be enough. "I-I don't know where they are. But they're together, alive."

"What happened to you?"

"Splinched." Ron showed him his hand. "Twice." He gestured to his shoulder and, with a free hand, pushed back his shirt to reveal the deep scar that was left in place of freckled skin.

Bill widened his eyes and shook his head a little sighing deeply. "What happened, Ron?"

"Bill," Fleur said as she approached, handing a small cup to Ron, who drank eagerly. She placed a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder. Ron caught the affectionate gesture, and something pained inside of him, wrenching against his chest. He winced and looked away from them both. "Bill, he needs time. Let him rest."

He hadn't remembered climbing the stairs or lying down on the bed, but when he woke, Ron was beneath clean, warm sheets. He briefly wondered if he had died in the woods. That is, until the pains and aches throbbed in his muscles, and he realised that he was still bitterly alive. Slowly, he sat up, but before he could move again, he caught a glimpse of red in the corner of the room and saw his brother sitting there in an armchair facing him.

"Sleep well?" Bill asked.

"Didn't even realise I'd gone to sleep," Ron muttered.

"Fleur slipped you a Sleeping Draught. You looked like you really needed it. Still do," Bill commented quietly before standing. He pulled his chair closer to the bed and retook his seat.

"How long?" Ron asked and coughed; his throat was dry and raw.

"Two days," Bill muttered and reached for a pitcher of water, pouring some into a small cup and handing it over.

"You didn't tell anyone I'm here, did you?" Ron asked, panic in his eyes.

"No, you seemed pretty insistent that we not let anyone know you were here," Bill's said, suddenly stern. "I'd like to know _why_."

Ron shook his head, not knowing how to tell Bill the truth of what he'd done. He was unable to even look his brother in the eye. "I don't know," he murmured. "Bill, I've done . . . I'm a coward." He shut his eyes tightly, fighting back tears. "I left them."

Bill leant in closely. "You what?"

Ron looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "I left them. I left Hermione and Harry."

"Why?" Bill asked. "Were you attacked? Was it—?"

Ron shook his head. "I can't explain it. I thought . . . Harry and I fought. I thought he and Hermione were . . ." He winced at the memory. "So I left. I Disapparated, and I don't know how to get ba—"

 _SMACK_!

"Ow!" Ron shouted and pulled a hand to the side of his head where Bill's had hit him. "What the bloody hell!?"

"You left Harry, who happen to be our only hope in winning this war because of an argument over a _girl_?!" Bill's eyes were alight with disappointment and fury.

Ron stared at his brother in shock. He couldn't help but notice the details of the rep red scars across Bill's face and wonder exactly how much more wolf he was than man at this point. "I didn't want to. Not really," he muttered. "I can't tell you why," he said, thinking of that damned Horcrux. "I just . . . I thought they'd be better off without—"

 _SMACK_!

"Ow! Arsehole!" Ron shouted and stood up to face Bill. He stood half an inch taller than his eldest brother, but his height still didn't give him the proper courage to strike back in any way.

"I've had enough of this." Bill grabbed Ron by the collar and pulled hard. Ron tripped at first, unable to get a decent footing, as he was drug down the stairs. He stumbled a few times when Bill forced him through the front door, ignoring a concerned Fleur who called after them both. "Out!" Bill shouted and threw Ron to the sand in front of the cottage.

He fell backward, landing on his backside. He stared up at his brother, who had a frightening determination in his eyes. Ron panicked as he saw Bill reach for his wand. Instinctively, Ron reached for his own.

"Get up," Bill demanded.

Ron blinked, mildly terrified. "Bill, what are you playing at?"

"Get up!" Bill repeated, and a flicker of light flashed out of his wand, striking the ground next to where Ron sat.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted and stood, staring at the bit of burnt earth that had been inches from his hand. "Have you gone mental!?"

"Have _you_?" Bill asked and stepped forward once for every step that Ron took back, wand held at the ready aimed at his little brother. " _Vermillious_!" Red sparks shot from Bill's wand like firecrackers.

" _Protego_!" Ron shouted and watched as the sparks burst against his shield. "What's wrong with you?! What would Mum think if she knew you were attacking your own brother!?" He hoped that playing the "Mum Card" would snap some sense into Bill. Ron had been on the run for months, had been physically and mentally broken, and was not in the mood to duel his own brother.

"Depends, what would she say if she found out that you'd left Harry?" Bill shot back. " _Stupefy_!"

Ron blocked the attack, but his shield weakened, and he fell back against the sand. The words had clearly struck him harder than Bill's attack had. He was exhausted and broken and didn't know how to fight back.

Bill growled down at his brother. "And all over what? You abandoned your friend all over a stupid girl?"

Something snapped inside of Ron and his eyes darkened. Back on his feet in a flash, he shouted, " _Expelliarmus_!" with speed that he hadn't had moments earlier. Bill's wand flew out of his hand, but he didn't appear deterred in the slightest.

Wandless, Bill stalked toward his younger brother. "How old are you?!"

"Sev-Seventeen," Ron muttered, confused and worried as Bill approached him without a wand and gave him a good shove backward. Ron stumbled but caught his balance, still looking at his elder brother with horror painted on his face.

"So you're telling me you're _not_ a child?" Bill asked, and Ron scowled in response. "You're _supposedly_ a man?"

Ron clenched his teeth but remained quiet.

"And are you a bloody coward?" Bill demanded.

When Ron looked away, breaking eye contact, he earned another good smack to the side of the head which caused him to turn quickly and shout, "No!"

"So you're _not_ a disappointment to the House of Gryffindor!?" Bill pushed him again, and Ron fell on his backside. "Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you? Are you a man or a child?! Or are you just a self-serving coward, Ronald Weasley? Maybe you should have been sorted into Slytherin."

And that was the breaking point.

Ron stood up and gave a good shove at his brother's chest, his eyes blazing as he towered over Bill, knocking him to the ground as easily as anything he'd ever done. Not done making his point, he turned his wand on his brother and narrowed his eyes. " _Levicorpus_!"

All too quickly, Bill was pulled by his ankle from the sand and hung upside-down, hovering in midair.

"Bill!" Fleur shouted, reaching for her wand, but Ron pulled Bill's wand around and aimed it at her. She widened her eyes in shock but held steady as Ron slowly approached his brother.

"You done?" Bill asked, his voice suddenly calm and collected. "Get it out of your system?" Ron said nothing but narrowed his eyes still. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered hesitantly before looking back at Fleur and lowering the second wand in his hand. He turned back to Bill and mumbled, " _Liberacorpus_." Bill quickly fell to the sand, but Ron kept his wand firmly in his grip. His ears were scarlet, and his face looked determined and furious. "You want to explain what the bloody hell you attacked me for?"

Bill slowly stood up, dusting the sand off of his trousers. "I'm done watching your lifelong pity party. Yeah, you got the short end of the stick in the family being the youngest boy. Fred and George gave you a hard time growing up, especially after Charlie and I left. But you're a grown man now," Bill said as he approached him, pushing the wand out of his face and gripping the back of Ron's neck tight. "And a man, a Gryffindor, a Weasley," he said, "fixes their mistakes and moves on. You're not selfish, cowardly, or stupid, Ron. If you ever think those things about yourself again, you come to me."

"I-I . . ." Ron broke against his brother, wrapping his arms around Bill's shoulders tightly. "I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where they are."

Bill patted him on the back. "Then suck it up. Get inside, get some food. Get your strength back and figure it out. You can do it," he said with a smile. "You just got the better of _me_ ,didn't you? And I'm a bloody Curse-Breaker."

"Thanks, Bill," Ron said with a small bit of hope in his voice. He'd never seemed to be able to one up _any_ of his brothers. Charlie faced dragons on a daily basis; he'd always been afraid to try anything. Fred and George had made it their own personal vendetta to constantly prank Percy, always leaving Ron out. If Ron even _thought_ about trying to get one over on the twins, the payback would never be worth the risk. But out of all of his brothers, Bill had always been the most intimidating, the most skilled. He had to be with a job like his, not to mention working in the Order. Somehow, knowing that he'd been able to best Bill in a duel—in the state he was in—made him wonder if he really was worth a damn.

"For the record, though," Bill said as they approached the door and a furious-looking Fleur, "point a wand at my wife again, and I'm gonna knock you on your arse."

Ron looked at him. "To be fair, you called Hermione stupid."

Bill inclined his head. "Good point. It was just to get a rise out of you. When you find her"—Bill paused and looked at Ron—" and you will find her, you don't mention that to her, yeah?"

For the first time in what felt like months, Ron smiled.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

* * *

 **December 1997**

"Will these work?" Bill asked as he handed over several folded maps, spreading a large one out along the small dining room table. Ron continued to shovel food into his mouth eagerly while simultaneously looking over a parchment with scribbled notes.

It had been two weeks since he had arrived at Shell Cottage. Most of the days were spent nursing himself back to full health. He didn't know where to even begin looking for Harry and Hermione, but he was determined that when he _did_ find them, he would be strong enough to properly help them. It took less than a week for Ron to start making notes on the locations they had already been. While he wasn't always certain of the names of towns and villages they camped outside of, he had a general idea.

Taking his wand in hand, Ron looked over his notes and the large map in front of him and began magically marking out locations that the trio had already gone to as well as places that he knew they would avoid for safety reasons. Everywhere around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade was ruled out thanks to Death Eaters and dementors. He also marked off Diagon Alley, most of London including Kings Cross Station and Grimmauld Place, as well as the entire village of Ottery St. Catchpole. One by one, he scratched off locations: Little Hangleton, Budleigh Babberton, Cokeworth, and Tottenham Court Road. He decided to not mark Godric's Hollow but made a mental note to leave it as a last resort, knowing that Hermione would insist Harry do the same.

By the time he ran out of places they had been and places they would not go, it still left hundreds and hundreds of miles of potential open space, and no way for him to find his friends. Defeated, Ron spent the majority of his time outside practising his spell work, often duelling with Bill when he had the chance to.

* * *

When snow began covering the ground, Ron sadly looked out his window, wishing he could be properly enjoying Christmas. Either with his family back at the Burrow or somewhere out there—wherever Harry and Hermione were.

"Ron?!" Bill called up the stairs in a tone of voice that caused Ron to jump at the sound.

Quickly and defensively with wand in hand, Ron moved down the stairs. "Bill?"

"It's all right. Just got word from the Order."

Ron's eyes widened with anticipation. "Harry and Hermione?!"

"No," Bill frowned. "But there's news that we _all_ need to know. Kingsley was almost captured."

Fleur gasped from the kitchen where she stood gaping at Bill. "How iz zat possible?"

"Damned Death Eaters put a Taboo on the name," Bill said with a scowl.

"What name? You-Know-Who's name?" Ron asked, his face pale.

Bill nodded. "Yeah. Spelled it so that anyone who says the name can be tracked. It even breaks down protective enchantments."

" _That's_ how they did it," Ron whispered, his eyes wide.

"How who did what?"

Ron moved to sit down, rubbing his hands down his face. "Back, right after the wedding when we left the Burrow. We ended up in some crowded Muggle place Hermione Apparated us to. We stopped inside a diner to figure out where to go next. All of a sudden, Death Eaters walked inside and tried to pick us off. We got the upper hand; Hermione Obliviated them."

"She _did_?" Bill asked surprised. "That's impressive."

"That's _nothing_." Hermione being impressive was no longer a shock to Ron. "We spent forever trying to figure out how we'd been followed. I was the only one who refused to say the name." He felt a moment of shame that was quickly overshadowed by an "I told you so" attitude. He wished Harry were there so he could rub it in his face a little. "I begged them to stop saying it."

Bill sighed. "Thank Merlin they listened to you."

"What if they stopped?" Ron looked up worried. "What if they started saying it again after I left?" He couldn't imagine what would happen to them. Harry would be given right over to You-Know-Who for sure, and Hermione . . . Hermione would be taken to the Ministry. She'd have to face Umbridge like Mary Cattermole had. She would have her wand taken away and threatened with Azkaban, and that was best case scenario. Ron's heart raced in a panic.

"If they'd been found, we'd know," Bill assured him, seeing the signs of Ron breaking down he walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "The whole world would know where they were."

Ron frowned and put his head in his hands. "I just wish I knew where they were."

Bill patted his back. "You'll figure it out."

* * *

Time passed too slowly. Ron felt like he was getting nowhere, and he was desperate to leave and find his friends. He had again taken up the annoying habit of clicking the Deluminator, but was only allowed to do so in his room after the fourth day when Fleur couldn't handle the lights going out anymore, and she had snapped at him.

Christmas morning, Ron turned on the radio in his room trying to tune into Potterwatch. Bill and Fleur remained downstairs, celebrating their first Christmas together as a married couple. Ron had been invited down, of course, but refused. Watching them in their private moments together only reminded him of what he was missing.

 _"Ron . . ."_

"What?" He blinked and looked at the door to his room. He turned the radio off and listened. "Fleur?"

 _"Ron . . ."_ the voice repeated.

He did a double take, looking back to the Deluminator on the side table next to his bed.

 _"Remember . . . remember Ron?"_

He sucked in a short breath and held it, reaching for the Deluminator, half thinking he'd gone mad. "Hermione?"

 _". . . when he broke his wand . . ."_

Ron's eyes widened, and he stood. That was Hermione's voice! He clicked the Deluminator in his hand instinctively. Immediately, the light of his room went out, but another light appeared outside his window. A small blue orb hovered and pulsed, beckoning to him like a Portkey ready to count down. Panicked at the recognition, Ron fumbled quickly for his rucksack and coat and rushed down the stairs.

"Ron?" Bill called out to him. "Everything all right?"

Ron smiled anxiously. "Bill, I can find them."

He darted out the door and into the garden where the blue light continued to pulse. Approaching carefully, he trailed after the light, unaware that Bill and Fleur followed behind him. Once he had reached the small shed along the path of the garden the light stopped, hovered for a moment, and then rushed straight through him, passing through fabric and skin and settling into his chest.

He gasped as the light filled him up with warmth and instinctively closed his eyes. He thought of Hermione's voice and Disapparated.

* * *

When he Apparated onto a snowy hill, Ron looked around elated. "Hermione! Harry!" There was no response, but he knew they were there; he could feel it inside of him, pulsing like the blue light that had brought him there.

He tugged his coat tight around him to keep out the cold as much as possible, moving in the dark of the early morning in search of any sign of their campsite. He knew the protective spells surrounding them would be hard—if not impossible—to break through, so he focused on hoping that one of them would dare to step outside in search of food and show themselves to him.

Unwilling to move from his location, Ron pulled out his sleeping bag and slipped inside to keep warm, staring into a vast open wilderness in front of him, covered in snow. "Come on Hermione," he whispered. "I know you're there somewhere."

Hours passed, and he grew more and more anxious. The thought of seeing them again kept him going. Every so often he would call out their names—not very loudly, as he did not want to draw attention from potential unwanted parties.

* * *

When the light faded over the hill, and a velvety blackness covered the sky above him, Ron let out a defeated sigh. He'd been wrong. But he had heard her voice, and the light told him—though not in so many words—that he would be taken to her. To them _both_. Desperate and determined, Ron reached for the Deluminator and clicked it again. Once more, the small blue light emerged and entered Ron's chest, filling him with purpose and destination. He closed his eyes and Disapparated, letting the blackness pull him into nothingness.

Apparating into another forest, Ron sighed and looked around. "Hermione!" he called out first. "Harr—"

A light appeared somewhere in front of him. Something vaguely familiar in the distance.

Was that . . . was that a Patronus?

"Harry!" Ron yelled and ran toward it.

It was a deer! A _deer_ Patronus. He _knew_ that Patronus! It had to be Harry!

Ron rushed through the woods, desperate to catch a glimpse of either of his friends, but he kept his wand in hand. If Harry had cast a Patronus, there must have been a reason. When he approached a small cluster of trees overlooking a frozen pond, he stopped quickly, not wanting to fall through the ice.

He looked around for the Patronus but found nothing save for a deep crack in the centre of the pond. Something glittered beneath the surface. Before he had a chance to take a closer look, he watched a figure step out from the shadows, pale in the moonlight. _Harry?_ Ron rose a brow, briefly wondering if he had smacked his head on something.

Harry stood in the cold, snow at his feet, staring into the depths of an ice pond . . . almost starkers.

Before he had a chance to call out to him, Harry dove into the water.

Ron's eyes widened. "What the bloody hell, mate!?"

He dropped his rucksack, made his way to the water's edge, and looked down. Harry was moving, reaching for something, something that glittered at the bottom of the pond. Ron hesitantly waited for him to resurface.

After far too long, he growled, "Oh, the hell with this." Wincing, Ron dove into the water without a second thought.

Ice stabbed him from all sides, searing his flesh with water so cold it might as well have been boiling hot as it scalded against him, freezing his eyes open, and sealing the airtight inside of his lungs. He turned and looked for Harry, who was struggling against the familiar gold chain around his neck that seemed to have a will of its own; a will that was desperately trying to choke Harry into oblivion. Ron swam down, reached a long arm around Harry's chest, and pulled hard. He stretched his free arm up for the opening in the ice.

Bracing himself against the solid edge of the frozen pond, Ron ripped the locket away from Harry's throat, the chain snapping in his hand. He placed Harry's arms against the edge—the locket beside him—and then looked back down into the water. The glimmering hint of a ruby caught his eye.

Ron dove back down beneath the surface, barely having a moment to take in another deep breath as he reached with all his might until the feel of metal touched his fingers, and he gripped hard. Turning around, he kicked against the bottom of the pond, launching himself upward until his face broke the surface of the water, and he gasped.

Arms aching, he tossed the sword a few feet away and used what little strength he had left to pull Harry completely out of the water. The weight of his friend was too much after the ice had frozen his muscles tighten around him. He dropped Harry into a pile of snow and then staggered, coughing and choking up bits of icy water as he reached for the Sword of Gryffindor and the damned locket.

 _"Are . . . you . . . mental?!"_

Harry turned, shivering in the cold and staggered to his feet, staring wide-eyed at Ron as though he were trying to decide if he were real or not.

 _"Why the hell," Ron panted, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, "didn't you take the thing off before you dived?"_

 _"It was y-you?" Harry said at last, his teeth chattering, and his voice weaker than usual due to his near-strangulation_.

 _"Well, yeah," said Ron, looking slightly confused._

 _"Y-you cast that doe?"_

 _"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!"_

 _"My Patronus is a stag."_

 _"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers."_

 _Harry put Hagrid's pouch back around his neck, pulled on a final sweater, stooped to pick up Hermione's wand, and faced Ron again._

 _"How come you're here?"_

Ron's face dropped, immediately reminded—word-for-word—of the night he had left them. Reminded of everything the locket had told him. How come he was here? Ron swallowed anxiously. He _needed_ to be here. He needed to prove he could help, even if they didn't want him. _"Well, I've... you know... I've come back. If..." He cleared his throat. "You know. You still want me."_

 _There was a pause, in which the subject of Ron's departure seemed to rise like a wall between them. Yet he was here. He had returned. He had just saved Harry's life._

 _Ron looked down at his hands. He seemed momentarily surprised to see the things he was holding._

 _"Oh yeah, I got it out," he said, rather unnecessarily, holding up the sword for Harry's inspection. "That's why you jumped in, right?"_

 _"Yeah," said Harry. "But I don't understand. How did you get here? How did you find us?"_

 _"Long story," said Ron._

The two friends walked together, Harry looking for a sign of the Patronus or its caster, Ron following behind and keeping a short distance as if waiting for the inevitable fight to break out where Harry would demand he leave once again. But Harry looked determined to fight something else. The Horcrux, still swinging from Ron's hand twitched being so close to the Sword of Gryffindor as though it knew its fate.

Approaching a sycamore tree, Harry dusted off the flat surface of a nearby rock and reached his hand out to Ron, requesting the locket.

 _"Come here," Harry said, and when Ron turned to hand him the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry shook his head. "No, you should do it."_

 _"Me?" said Ron, looking shocked. "Why?"_

 _"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."_

Ron shook his head, suddenly terrified. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor was in his hand, and he was bloody terrified of striking a shiny gold locket as though he knew it would attack him first. The locket had been the reason for his worst mistake, his greatest shame, and Harry was willing to let everything go to waste on the idea that Ron could somehow— _now?_ —defeat it?

 _"I can't, Harry, I'm serious... you do it..."_

 _"But why?"_

 _"Because that thing's bad for me!" said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affects you and Hermione, it made me think stuff... stuff that I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off, and I'd get my head straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on... I can't do it, Harry!"_

 _"You can do it," said Harry, "you can! You've just got the sword; I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please just get rid of it, Ron."_

 _Ron_. His name came from Harry's mouth, but it echoed in his head in Hermione's voice, reminding him of the sound that came from the Deluminator. The sound that had breathed life back into him and given him hope when everything else seemed lost. The memory of his name coming from her voice somehow eased his fears, and he was determined to avenge his pride against the locket that had stolen it away from him.

 _"Tell me when," he croaked._

 _"One... two... three..."_

And Harry made an eerily familiar hissing noise that Ron seemed to recall from years earlier. He swallowed hard as the doors of the locket opened. He heard Harry order him to stab it, and Ron eagerly obeyed, raising the sword up. His hands were shaking, whether from the cold or his nerves he didn't know, but he tried to focus his energy on holding the weapon still enough to strike.

 _Then a voice hissed from out the Horcrux._

 _"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."_

 _"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"_

 _"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter... Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend... Second best, always, eternally overshadowed..."_

Angry, Ron raised the sword higher as he heard Harry screaming in the background, but the voice of the locket drowned out his cries. Ron scowled at the red eyes of Tom Riddle until two heads emerged from the locket and formed themselves into dark versions of Harry and Hermione. Ron yelled at the sight and backed away. Her eyes were red, but it was still her. He hadn't seen her in so long except in his dreams, and here she stood, deformed by darkness and yet still beautiful.

 _"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption. Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"_

"No," Ron whimpered, horrified and heartbroken as the words washed over him like the cold water of the pond, chilling his body and threatening to drown him in his misery and shame. In his peripheral vision, he could see the real Harry screaming at him, but he couldn't make out the words. His heart pounded in his ears, and the weight of the sword felt heavier, his hand willing itself to let it go.

 _"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met._

Something flashed in Ron's eyes, and the coldness vacated his body leaving behind a waking fire of rage and anger, giving life to his limbs and strength enough to lift the blade in his hand. This wasn't Harry; this wasn't Hermione. Ron thought that if she _did_ end up choosing Harry over him, he would live with. It would hurt, but he would live. Her happiness came first for once.

The abomination in front of him had taken her image and violated it, and _that_ he would not stand for.

Ron dropped the sword down hard, and there was a clash against the locket and the rock beneath, followed by a long, drawn-out scream. When it eventually died off, the silence was deafening. He dropped the sword to his side with a clang and fell to his knees, cradling his head in his hands as he sobbed.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and wanted to turn away, hating the thought of Harry seeing him like this. Physically exhausted from the events of the night, and emotionally overwhelmed with trying to hide how he'd been feeling for years, Ron openly embraced the humility that the snow beneath his knees brought him.

 _"After you left," Harry said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Ron's face was hidden, "she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone... She's like my sister," he went on. "I love her like a sister and I reckon that she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that. I thought you knew."_

He hadn't known.

Hermione had always been their friend until one day she wasn't. She was more than a friend, and then suddenly she was everything. If she could turn into the very air _he_ breathed, he couldn't imagine how Harry survived without the same. She was beautiful and brilliant, and he'd assumed that every other man could see it just as he did. But Harry said she was like his sister. Ron swallowed the word and was reminded of Ginny. He silently wondered if his own sister gave Harry reason to breathe the way Hermione did for him. The thought momentarily irritated him, but he made a promise that if they survived this war, he would be less of an arse when it came to Harry and Ginny.

Ron slowly stood, realising how desperate he was to breathe again. Breathe _properly_. Breathe _her_.

"Where is she?" he asked, turning to glance at Harry with a desperate pleading look in his eye. Harry grinned, and the two friends walked back toward the campsite. The sight of the tent warmed Ron, and he suddenly realised that the many nights he'd spent in Bill's spare room at Shell Cottage were miserable compared to the cramped, uncomfortable quarters of the smelly, old tent. He'd _longed_ for this bloody tent like his life depended on it.

Once inside, Ron's focus drew to Hermione's small frame, curled beneath several blankets in her bed, fast asleep. He wanted to beg Harry not to wake her. She seemed so peaceful and yet sad. He frowned at the thought and remembered that Harry mentioned how often she'd been crying.

"Wake her," Ron pleaded softly.

He needed to make it up to her. He would make it up to her. He would make everything right again.

 _"Hermione!"_

 _She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face._

 _"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"_

 _"It's okay; everything's fine. More than fine, I'm great. There's someone here."_

 _"What do you mean? Who..?"_

She turned and her eyes locked on Ron.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One**

* * *

 **December 1997**

Months of exhaustion and near starvation had emptied her of everything she had left to give, but she still kept giving. All of her tears were gone, stolen in the night by the rainstorm that had taken Ron and her heart with it. Godric's Hollow had been a desperate move for her and Harry to make, but they had little options left. The large risk of going back to Harry's childhood home in search of Bathilda Bagshot had nearly killed them both and left them short one wand. Desperate for peace, Hermione thought about staying in the Forest of Dean forever, never leaving. She and Harry would grow old as the world around them buried itself in the war. Eventually, when they ran out of what hope there was left inside of them, they too would succumb.

Hermione's dreams had become nightmares filled with rainstorms and shouting, blizzards and snakes, and the musty, rotting smell of Bathilda Bagshot's home. She never stopped running in her dreams, constantly desperate to cling to Harry, who was always just inches away from death. She tried to scream for him, but her voice was raw and empty, left silent by the effort she had put into yelling for Ron, begging him to come back to her. She would always wake the same: panicked, searching for Harry to make sure he was still alive. As the panic would inevitably fade, she was left feeling hollow as her eyes drifted to Ron's empty bed.

 _"Hermione!"_

 _She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face. "What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"_

 _"It's okay; everything's fine. More than fine, I'm great. There's someone here."_

 _"What do you mean? Who?"_

Her gaze drew upward to the opening of the tent where Ron stood, soaking wet and shivering, his ginger hair clinging to his face and neck, a sword hanging from his hand. Slowly, as if she didn't think he was real, Hermione stepped from the comfort of her warm bed and moved closer to investigate. Her heart beat hard against her chest, and her eyes blurred as the tears long since spent threatened to return with a vengeance.

He was alive.

Her lip quivered at the thought. She could see him and smell him, and she wanted to reach out and touch him, feel him, press him against her and hold him there so he'd never go away. Never leave her again. Her lips parted, her eyes wide, she briefly moved a hand as though she meant to reach up and touch his face to make sure he was as real as she thought he was.

He smiled at her.

Suddenly, her open hand grew tight as steel and the dreamy hope within her turned into a violent rage. He was _here_. He was here, and she was happy he was alive because he had _left_ her, and he could have been _dead_ this whole time for all she knew! Her hand moved quickly as she hit him across the face, hard enough to turn his head away from her in shock. Her hand hurt, but she didn't care. It wasn't enough. Balling her hands into fists, she launched herself forward with strength she didn't know she had and began punching and hitting every inch of him she could reach.

 _"Ouch... ow... gerroff! What the... ? Hermione... OW!"_

 _"You... complete... arse... Ronald...Weasley!" She punctuated every word with a blow. Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. "You... crawl... back... here... after... weeks... and... weeks... oh, where's my wand?"_

 _She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry's hands, and he reacted instinctively. "Protego!" The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. The force of it knocked her backward on the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again. "Hermione!" said Harry. "Calm... "_

 _"I will not calm down!" she screamed. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"_

 _"Hermione, will you please... "_

 _"Don't you tell me what do, Harry James Potter!" she screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU! I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"_ Her voice cracked, and the tears that had been forcing their way into her vision finally tumbled over the brim of her eyes and fell on her cheeks.

 _"I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"_

Ron explained how he'd run into the Snatchers and told them he was Stan Shunpike and somehow had escaped. Hermione didn't care. She was barely listening. His voice, the voice she heard in her dreams and longed to hear upon waking was now driving nails into the chalkboard that was her waking state. Ron pleaded with her, trying to let her know that he had tried to come back and even splinched himself in the process. Showing her the fingers on his hand that were missing fingernails boiled something angry deep inside of her, and she snapped at him viciously, wishing Harry would remove the shield charm so she could attack him again. He wasn't suffering enough.

 _"Gosh, what a gripping story," Hermione said in the lofty voice she adopted when wishing to wound. "You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile, we went to Godric's Hollow and, let's think, what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who's snake turned up, it nearly killed both of us, and then You-Know-Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."_

 _"What?" Ron said, gaping from her to Harry, but Hermione ignored him._

 _"Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?"_

 _"Hermione," said Harry quietly, "Ron just saved my life."_

She ignored him. Harry's life was always in jeopardy, saving him was commonplace these days. She had just done it herself a few days ago, were all of _her_ past sins suddenly forgiven?

 _"One thing I would like to know, though. How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."_

 _Ron glared at her, then pulled a small silver object from his jeans pocket. "This."_

 _"The Deluminator?" she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce._

 _"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," said Ron. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning, and I heard... I heard you."_

 _He was looking at Hermione._

 _"You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously._

 _"No, I heard you coming out of my Deluminator. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "came out of this."_

 _"And what exactly did I say?" asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between scepticism and curiosity._

 _"My name."_

Hermione sucked in a breath. She remembered refusing to speak his name for weeks after he had left. Even the thought of him reopened her wounds and cut deep. Saying his name had taken a great deal of distraction on her part. Her face turned scarlet.

 _"So I took it out," Ron went on, looking at the Deluminator, "and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside the window. It was a ball of light, kind of pulsing, and bluish, like that light you get around a Portkey, you know? I knew this was it," said Ron. "I grabbed my stuff and packed it, then I put on my rucksack and went out into the garden. The little ball of light was hovering there, waiting for me, and when I came out it bobbed along a bit, and I followed it behind the shed and then it... well, it went inside me."_

 _"Sorry?" said Harry, sure he had not heard correctly._

 _"It sort of floated toward me," said Ron, illustrating the movement with his free index finger, "right to my chest, and then... it just went straight through. It was here," he touched a point close to his heart,_ his eyes never leaving Hermione's face. She exhaled sharply when his hand touched his chest, his eyes were intent, boring their way into her, silently communicating.

She turned her gaze away from him and folded her arms tighter over her chest, breaking free only to wipe the stray tears off of her face as he spoke. Ron continued to tell Harry his grand tale of discovering them and Hermione listened for any important points, not daring herself to look at him. She took in the information about the Patronus doe, and then Harry tossed her the destroyed Horcrux. Feeling a weight lift off of her, Hermione sighed and placed the damned thing in her beaded bag. She wished she could turn around and hug Ron, hold him to her and tell him he was brilliant. He had destroyed a Horcrux, and she was grateful. But he had _left_ her, and he needed to know how much she had hurt because of it. She turned and climbed back in her bed, turning away from the boys without another word.

 _"About the best you could hope for, I think," murmured Harry._

 _"Yeah," said Ron. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"_

 _"I still haven't ruled it out," came Hermione's muffled voice from beneath her blankets._

* * *

Days passed, and Ron's punishment remained.

She barely spoke to him, and when she did, it was as though he were an inconvenience to her rather than someone to help. Regardless of her scowling, Ron kept moving forward with energy and gusto that Hermione and Harry couldn't match combined. He appeared penitent, but would smile at her for any indication that she was close to forgiving him, which would only lengthen his cold-shouldered sentence.

* * *

Quickly Hermione realised how petty she was being when the war was brought back to the forefront of her mind after an attack and near capture at the Lovegood's house. They had barely escaped alive, certainly not unscathed as Xenophilius Lovegood's house collapsed on top of them. Hermione was abundantly grateful that they had all Disapparated to safety, without a single splinch.

Embarrassed because it had been _her_ idea to go in search of information from Luna's father, Hermione took the first watch after casting the protective charms around the campsite. Within the tent, she could hear Harry excitedly talk about the Deathly Hallows. She winced at the sound of his sudden enthusiasm for something they didn't need to be looking for. Her curiosity had nearly gotten them killed, and now was creating a grand distraction in the one person who needed the most focus.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, not realising that she had fallen asleep. The sky had grown dark, and she looked up to Harry standing above her.

"You fell asleep. Go inside. It's my watch. I'm too anxious to sleep anyway."

"Thank you, Harry," she mumbled and slowly stood, making her way into the tent. Once the door closed behind her, she looked up and breathed in sharply as Ron stood in front of her, bare-chested.

She blinked. "What're—?"

"Sorry," he said, feigning mild embarrassment as he pulled a t-shirt over his chest, but he smiled as a rose hue grew against the apples of her cheeks. "Was that from the Lovegood's?"

"Is what—?" She looked down, confused as he approached her. Her eyes followed his gaze to her right thigh where a large tear in her jeans was soaked with blood. "Oh," she said, surprised. "I didn't even see it."

"Sit down," he ordered.

"I'm fine; I'll just—"

"Sit down, 'Mione," Ron insisted, and the look he gave her said he meant business. Against her defiant nature toward him, she obeyed and sat down in the nearby armchair, wincing as she suddenly noticed how sore every muscle in her body was.

" _Accio_ dittany." Ron hovered over her beaded bag and then with the small brown bottle in hand, he approached her on bended knee. Setting the bottle down, Ron poked at the hole in her jeans, and she hissed through her teeth. "Yeah, you got scraped up something good." He sighed under his breath and brought both hands to rest on either side of her thigh, his fingers prying open the small hole in the denim before tearing it open with a loud ripping sound.

"Ron!"

"I have to see it to treat it," he insisted, brushing off her tone. "It's either this or you take them off." He tossed her a daring look.

Hermione's face flushed in response, and her mouth hung open as she looked, wide-eyed, down into his hard stare.

"Didn't think so." He smirked and reached for a nearby washcloth that she hadn't seen him grab while she'd been sitting down. He dabbed lightly at the gash in her thigh, the blood already dried and scabbing.

Hermione whimpered quietly at the sting of pain, and she clenched her fists. How had she not noticed this until now? "I can do it myself," she muttered bitterly.

"You did this once for me," Ron replied as he continued cleaning the wound, unstoppering the bottle of dittany and placing a few drops on the gash. He reached a hand over and placed it on top of her tight fist, running the pad of his thumb against her whitened knuckles. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She sighed. "It's all right; it doesn't hurt that bad."

"No." Ron looked up at her, his brows low and his jaw set. "I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at him. Was he really doing this _now_? They'd just almost been captured or killed, escaped Death Eaters and barely survived having a house fall on top of them. Was now the time for this?

"You left me," her voice cracked as the words that she'd been trying to keep in came tumbling out. She opened her eyes, and they were once again blurry with tears.

He frowned. "I know. I know I did."

"How could you . . . I called for you; I _begged_ you not to go."

The tears spilt over on her cheeks, and Ron winced at the sight of them and reached up to brush them away. "I left because I was a coward," he admitted, swallowing the emptiness that the words left behind.

"You've never been a coward," Hermione said firmly. "Never."

"The Horcrux made me . . . It _said_ things to me—made me feel things. Things I'd rather you never know." He turned his gaze away from her, unable to look her in the eye. "I can't even begin to explain. And I'll never finish apologising to you," he added, returning his attention to her face. "I will _never_ leave you again," he promised, reaching up and cupping her face gently in his hands. "Never."

"Don't say it if—"

Ron's jaw tightened. "Hermione, I will have to be dragged kicking and screaming to ever leave you again. And even still, I'll come back." The look in his eyes was stern and dark and almost scared her. His words now made light of the childlike wishes they'd said to each other over the summer, somehow replacing them with a tone of fidelity and promise.

She let out a shaky breath. "H-How's my leg?"

His focus drew down to her exposed thigh, and he brushed his fingers against the cut that had already sealed itself shut tight and clean. "It'll scar."

"Won't be the first." Hermione sighed irritably but her breath caught in her throat as she felt something warm against her knee where the new scar began. She looked down with wide eyes to see Ron's lips grazing against her skin. "W-what . . . w-what are you . . .?" She let out a tiny whimper through heavy breaths. "We said . . . n-no distractions," she exhaled the words laced with painful regret.

"I don't know about you, but after the past few months I could _use_ a distraction." He smirked, and she laughed, biting her lower lip before any more noises escaped her traitorous lips. Ron sighed and stood up, clearly not wanting to push her. He reached for his wand and pointed down at her torn jeans—" _Reparo_ "—and the fabric stitched itself back together, though poorly.

"Get some sleep, Mione," he said as he pulled her up to stand and gently nudged her toward her bunk. He turned to head toward his own bed but felt her grip on his hand tighten. He looked back, and she smiled hesitantly at him.

"I thought you said you'd never leave me again?"

"Mione?" Ron's presence until then had been one of steadfast resolve and maturity, but as she pulled on his arm, tugging her toward her bed, his eyes widened. Suddenly, he felt like he was back at Hogwarts sitting on the big couch in front of the grand fireplace in the common room, terrified of doing something as simple as tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No distractions," she clarified, much to his great relief and disappointment. "Just sleep."

"Just sleep," he echoed dumbly and crawled into bed behind her. Her small body cradled against him, her back pressing softly into his chest as he drew the blankets up over the both of them. She shivered once, and it was enough to cause him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her closer against his body. He smiled as she let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

He pressed his face gently into her hair and breathed her in, silently wondering if his own personal Amortentia would change now. From library books, lavender, and porridge to the smell of freshly fallen snow, campfire, and dittany. He didn't care as long as it was all her. With what little courage the events of the day left him with, Ron tugged softly against the collar of her shirt, revealing the skin of her shoulder where he tenderly placed his lips, the taste of her skin caused him to groan inward.

"No distractions," Hermione muttered strictly.

"I'm feeling _very_ focused right now," Ron mumbled against her skin, and Hermione laughed softly in response.

"Prat."

"Witch." Ron grinned and pulled her closer to him, basking in her warmth as he found sleep almost instantly.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N** : One of the more fun (though sad) chapters to write through. I really enjoy skipping ahead and then backtracking, which is what I wanted to do with Malfoy Manor from the very beginning. The perspective jumps slightly, especially in the flashbacks as our favourite Slytherin Prince makes a little cameo.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two**

* * *

 **April 1998**

"Ron?"

He stared into the darkness of the spare room at Shell Cottage, purposed turned from the light that peeked through the crack in the door where Bill's voice came through. His eyes were red and dry; sleep beckoned him with a desperate call that he continued to ignore. Ron thought he heard Bill's voice again in the distance, but he tuned it out. The only noise he listened for came from the bed to the right of his armchair, where he had been sitting for near twelve hours. Soft breathing filled his ears, broken up by the occasional whimper.

"Ron?" Bill called again, but Ron once more ignored the sound as his eyes turned to focus on the sleeping girl in the bed beside him.

Hadn't it only been days ago when there was promise in the air?

They had been listening to Potterwatch with enthusiasm, when Harry accidentally said You-Know-Who's name, triggering the taboo. All of the protective enchantments on their campsite broke, leading Snatchers right to the door of their tent.

 _"I will have to be dragged kicking and screaming to ever leave you again."_ Words he had told her the night she finally accepted his apology. Words he had told her the night she pulled him into her bed to hold her, to keep her warm through the night as a way to show her his promise through his actions.

He had kept his word.

He had, in fact, been dragged, kicking and screaming as Snatchers pulled him from her side.

Ron hadn't been the only one kicking, though, and he had the bruises to prove it. Snatchers hadn't liked that he was fighting back, but Ron had no choice the moment he had seen the werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, _touch_ her—a look of lust and hunger in his eyes. Ron fought and suffered for it, being knocked to the ground, kicked and punched until his stomach lurched and his face began to swell. Though his pain was nothing to him now—not compared to _hers_.

They had been taken to Malfoy Manor where Hermione had been pulled from his grasp by Bellatrix Lestrange to be tortured. Ron had begged to be taken in her place. In reply, he had received a smack to the face so hard that his cheek had split open. Another scar. But his scars paled in comparisons to the ones Hermione now bore. Briefly glancing over her small body wrapped in the sheets in front of him, he could make out the lines of bandages where Fleur had treated her wounds. Most had healed, though marks remained behind as a reminder of the event. No matter how much dittany or Healing Potions they used, the Dark Magic carved into her forearm and the slice on her throat would remain permanently.

Ron felt the heat rise in his chest anytime he looked at her scars. He had never felt a hate burn so hot inside of him. He was exhausted and empty and unable to control his temper, which was only one of many reasons he refused to leave her side now as she slept, something that seemed to bother everyone else in the cottage.

"Ron?" Bill said clearly as he had stepped into the room.

Unaware of Bill's presence at first, Ron moved quickly out of pure instinct. His hand was on the wand he kept by the table, a look of fierceness in his eyes that softened briefly at the recognition of his eldest brother.

"What?" His voice was quiet, his throat still raw from screaming Hermione's name from the cellar of Malfoy Manor.

"Ron, I know you want to keep watch over her, but it's time you come—"

He gave his brother a daring look, and Bill was silenced mid-sentence.

"Bill, you're my brother, and I love you," Ron began with a sigh, "and I will never be able to thank you and Fleur enough for what you've done for us all . . . for her." His attention focused on the sleeping witch.

"Ron—"

Ron's blue gaze rose defiantly to meet his brother's stare. "But the next person that walks through that door and tries to get me to leave her . . . is getting thrown down those fucking stairs." His jaw was set tight and his nostrils flared. "Is that understood?"

Bill seemed to contemplate the option for the briefest of moments as the two brothers stared each other down. Somehow, the two had become near mirror images, each hanging on their own end of the family order. Bill, the eldest brother, stood tall; he was a skilled and talented fighter—the marks of his attack by Greyback permanently scarred onto his face. Ron, the youngest brother, stood an inch over Bill; he was a grown man now, who had seen more war than anyone else his age. He was a protector—bearing his own scars given to him by his choice in companionship and blood treachery.

Bill was the first to back down. He put his hand on Ron's shoulder and gave a silent nod of understanding. Ron couldn't help but wonder how Bill would react if it had been Fleur in this bed, unconscious. The eldest Weasley turned out of the room, shutting the door tightly behind him and Ron collapsed back into the chair with a loud groan.

He was appreciative of Bill and Fleur who had opened their front door the day before to find Harry Potter, two captive Hogwarts students, the long missing Ollivander, a wounded Goblin and a dead Elf in their yard. Not to mention Ron, who carried an unconscious Hermione into the cottage, blood dripping on the floor as he moved.

* * *

 _"What happened?!" Bill shouted, and Fleur rushed into the kitchen to grab the medikit she had, filled with gauze, dittany, and bandages. Both looked horrified._

 _"Bellatrix," Ron muttered, and Fleur gasped. "Greyback," he added as a final note in the hopes that the mention of the werewolf's name would speak of the dire situation they had found themselves in; it worked. Bill helped Ron gently carry Hermione to the upstairs bedroom, Fleur following swiftly behind._

 _"The others," Ron gestured out the window where he saw Harry cradling Dobby in his arms. He winced at the thought and turned his eyes away from the sight of the dead elf, unable to handle anything other than Hermione right now._

 _"I'll take care of them," Bill said and turned out of the room, heading back down the stairs._

 _"Ron," Fleur looked up at him as she examined Hermione's wounds. "What happened?"_

 _"These are . . ." He gestured to the many bleeding cuts over Hermione's body. "A chandelier crashed on top of her." He frowned at the sight of her wounds, reaching out and snatching the bottle of dittany from Fleur as he began to immediately attend to Hermione himself._

 _"And this?" Fleur looked at the gash on Hermione's neck. "It looks like—"_

 _"A cursed blade." He had seen the mark inflicted. He had stood in front of Bellatrix himself as she held Hermione upright, blade to her throat, threatening to cut it clean open. Ron had hated before, or thought he had, but never in his life had he ever imagined he would want to kill. But now he knew. The stolen wand in his hand had twitched at the sight of blood being drawn against Hermione's neck, and the words "Avada Kedavra" whispered in the forefront of his mind. But he knew he wouldn't be fast enough to kill Bellatrix—not when she could easily use Hermione as a shield._

 _Somehow, thanks to Dobby, they had still escaped._

 _His gaze turned down at Hermione's forearm and he inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing red._

 _Mudblood._

 _Bellatrix had not only tortured her, threatened her life, but had carved her skin. Her perfect skin, tarnished with the word and hate that she had spent years trying to push off of her. Ron was enraged, and his eyes blurred with tears as he pulled away from Hermione's body. He pushed his hands into his hair and gripped tightly, willing himself not to scream. Fleur looked at him with sympathy as she rubbed healing ointment on the mark and covered it with a soft bandage._

 _"She'll be all right," she promised him. "She eez a survivor."_

 _Ron wiped his eyes and turned back. "She's a bloody hero."_

 _"I need to check the rest of her," Fleur muttered softly and gave Ron a gentle look._

 _"I'll . . ." Ron gestured to the door. "Oh . . ." He paused and let the words rest on his tongue before saying them aloud. "She was . . ." But the words wouldn't come. "Cruciatus," he finally blurted out and watched in horror as Fleur gasped. He closed his eyes, the sound of Hermione's screams echoing in his head._

 _"She will live," Fleur insisted again._

 _And she had. Hermione was a survivor. She had even gained enough strength to leave the cottage upon waking and made her way down to the yard where Harry had dug a grave for Dobby, though Ron kept her in a gentle embrace as she struggled to keep steady on her feet. The moment they were back inside the cottage, she was returned to her room, where she fell asleep and remained so for a day and a half. Fleur insisted that her body needed time to recover, and Ron insisted that he would remain by her side, just as he had promised her._

* * *

"No . . ." Hermione whimpered in her sleep, and Ron tore himself from his exhausted state to look at her face as her brows furrowed and her lips quivered.

"Mione?" he whispered and reached out, almost afraid to touch her.

She let out a loud cry of fear, and he panicked as a pain shot through his chest. She had spent hours whimpering in her sleep, but she had never cried out loud like this. Her loud cry was followed by a terrified scream that mimicked the ones left behind in the echoes of Malfoy Manor. Suddenly, the door burst open and Harry stood in the frame, breathing heavy.

"What happened?"

"She's . . . She's having a nightmare." Ron blinked away the tears, feeling utterly helpless to help her.

"Didn't Fleur give her a Potion for Dreamless Sleep?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes. But with the Cruciatus Curse . . ." he began but stopped himself from talking as he reached out and took her small hand within his own, bringing it to his lips he kissed her gently before resting his forehead against her knuckles.

Slowly she quieted and Ron let out a sigh of relief.

"This is my fault," Harry whispered.

Ron bristled. "It was an accident. I know you didn't mean to say You-Know-Who's name."

Harry shook his head. "Not just the Snatchers. Everything. They brought us to the Malfoy's because of me. It's my fault that she was hurt. That she was tortured. It's my fault that—"

Harry didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, as Ron stood and moved to him so quickly that he hadn't had a moment to react. Suddenly, Harry was being lifted off of the ground by the collar of his shirt and slammed into the wall behind him hard enough that the breath nearly left his lungs.

"Ron!" Harry coughed. "What the hell?!" He tried to fight but the muscular build and height differences between the two boys had become abundantly apparent. Ron still towered over Harry despite holding him several inches off of the ground, and while Harry's body was the slim build of a Seeker, Ron had filled out, even after months of near starvation in the woods on the run.

Ron glowered at Harry. "You will not take this from her!"

"Take _what_?" Harry snapped.

"Not _everything_ is about _you_. This war isn't about _you_! People are not dying for _you_! People are not fighting for _you_! Hermione didn't go through all of that for _you_! She is not a bloody victim! She's a fucking survivor and a hero," he said as he finally released Harry.

"I didn't say any of that!" Harry caught his balance and snapped back at Ron defensively. "But they were after me!"

"They're _always_ after you!" Ron snarled. "And now they're after all of us. She's a Muggle-born, Harry; they'd have hurt her just because of her blood! Stop being a damned martyr! We are not fighting this war in your bloody name, mate!"

"I know that!" Harry shouted, desperately.

"I'm fighting for _her_!" Ron shouted and his voice broke, a look of anguish in his tired eyes. "I'm fighting for . . . for . . ."

"Ron . . ." Harry began, his voice quiet.

Ron held up a hand. "Don't. I'm fighting like hell for her, and she almost died. Godric's sake, Harry, she doesn't even know that I . . ." But the words wouldn't come. They weren't for Harry to hear. They were too sacred to share aloud while Hermione remained unconscious and unaware in front of them.

"You should tell her," Harry said, catching Ron's unspoken sentiment.

"I can't." Ron shook his head. "And if you want to take bloody credit for anything, take _that_ ," he said bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone in check considering Ron's exhaustion was clearly shortening an already stunted fuse.

"She needed you to know that we were serious about helping you," Ron admitted. "That we weren't going to be distracted by . . . whatever this is." He gestured at the space between himself and Hermione. "She wanted us to be focused on the war."

"Well," Harry said, "don't tell her I said this when she wakes up, cause she'll cause a scene, but Hermione's wrong."

Ron didn't break his stare away from the bed and the sleeping girl beneath the sheets.

"I'm not fighting this war for me either," Harry stated simply. "I'm doing it for you and her. For everyone else too," he added. "But after everything the two of you have done for me over the past seven years . . . No one deserves to be happier than the pair of you."

Ron clenched his eyes tight.

"And I know we've still got a ways to go," Harry said, and both wizards thought about the future plan to break into Gringotts, and the Goblin a few doors away who they would need to plan with over the next few weeks. "And yes we need to be focused . . . but I want you both to have a reason to keep fighting. Each other."

"What's _your_ reason?" Ron asked plainly.

Harry let out a very slow and controlled breath.

"My reason is safe," Harry paused. "Where she needs to be."

Ron nodded, his nose twitching once before he scratched at the cut on his cheek. "I need to . . ." He gestured back to the armchair next to Hermione's bed.

"Get some sleep, mate." Harry patted Ron on the back. "And take care of her."

The bedroom door closed once again, and a drained Ron made his way back to the chair where he collapsed, muscles fatigued, eyes itching for sleep.

A small voice mumbled next to him. "Ron?"

"Mione?" He turned quickly. "Are you all right?" he asked but quickly realised she was still asleep. Her brows once again drew tightly together and a growing cry building in her throat. Desperate to help her, Ron pulled himself into the space next to her on the bed, gently tugging her small frame against him, pressing his forehead gently to hers. "You're safe," he promised her, stroking her cheek with his knuckles tenderly. Her face instantly relaxed, and she melted into his embrace.

The soft sounds of her breathing quickly lulled Ron to sleep.

* * *

The sun set and rose again, and Ron's tired eyes blinked open at movement next to him. Hermione was inches away from him, staring at him. She looked peaceful, a fact that made him relax into the mattress and pillow further.

"How are you?" he asked her, lump in his throat as he waited for the answer.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," she admitted.

"How'd you sleep?"

"I-I'm not sure," she said with a confused look on her face. "It was like I was going in and out a lot. Stuck between nothingness, consciousness, and memories. Were you and Harry shouting?"

"We're over it," Ron said quickly. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Hermione frowned.

"I promise." He smiled softly and brushed some of her wild locks out of her face. She attempted to return the gesture, bringing a hand up to push the fringe away from his forehead, but the bandage on her forearm caught both of their attentions.

"You saw it?" she asked tentatively.

"It's not you," Ron said, his face turning dark with unmistakable fury.

"I know." She brought her hand up to touch his cheek. He broke under the contact, eyes shining with tears, and Hermione's chest swelled painfully. "I won't let one word define me for life," she said firmly. "Don't you let it either. Please."

Ron turned his face into her palm and kissed it. "I won't. I'm just so glad you're alive."

"Because of you."

Ron blinked. "What?"

"When she was . . ." Hermione winced at the memory. "Everything felt like fire." She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. "I couldn't do anything except scream. Even then, I didn't feel like I was consciously making the effort to."

Hermione remembered it all too well.

Bellatrix hovered over her, blade in one hand, wand in the other. Between curses, Bellatrix would scream and holler, cackle and snarl. At one point—though Hermione wasn't certain how it happened—her body was thrust against the wall where she was hit over and over with a Severing Charm that cut her skin. Before she had a chance to breathe, the Dark witch was upon her again, thrusting her knife into Hermione's flesh. She had screamed loudly, her eyes begging for help.

In the corner of the room, she watched as a horrified Draco tried to move forward during the torture, but his hand was stayed by his mother, who closed her eyes and shook her head regretfully. Hermione found it odd that, though the Malfoy family—Draco especially—seemed horrified at the scene in front of them, they also appeared almost numb to it, as though she was not the first to be tormented and cut open in the middle of their drawing room.

Before she could contemplate another thought, Bellatrix was cursing her again and setting every nerve in her body rigidly aflame. Her body hadn't been strong enough to withstand it, but the memory of Neville's parents had her mind resolved to last as long as possible. She remembered thinking that maybe, just maybe, Harry and Ron would escape. That she could keep Bellatrix distracted. If they escaped, then she could die in peace.

But the pain was too much, and Hermione was buckling under the pressure to give in, to give up her mind and let the darkness swallow her whole. It was then that she'd heard Ron screaming her name, calling out to her with anger and determination. He was alive.

"I heard you," Hermione whispered to him. "Calling for me."

"I tried . . . I couldn't do anything."

"You did everything you could." She smiled softly and brushed the pad of her thumb against his mouth, which he caught in his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. "I wish we could just stay here forever. Locked in our own little bubble where no one else can get in."

"We can."

A small knock at the door sounded, and Harry spoke from the other side. "You guys awake?"

"Fuck off, Potter!" Ron snapped loudly.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded him.

"What?" Ron looked down at her. "He broke our bubble."

Hermione pushed her face into her pillow to muffle her laugh.

* * *

 _"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback. Wait, all except . . . except for the Mudblood."_

The nights were the worst.

During the day, Hermione rested. She was healing properly, save for the gash on her neck and the carving on her forearm, both turning a sickly purple colour as they began to scar. Ron remained dutifully by her side until her strength returned, leaving only to fetch food from downstairs or to let Fleur change Hermione's bandages.

When the trio began plotting with Griphook, Hermione finally left the small bedroom she had been confined to, determined to be useful once again. Her plan hit a small snag when she had discovered the hair of Bellatrix Lestrange. Though it became an immediate lifesaver in regards to the plan to infiltrate the Lestrange vault at Gringotts, Hermione's nightmares increased with intensity.

"Where did you get this sword?" Bellatrix's voice was almost calm, eerily so, but her eyes spoke madness, and Hermione was terrified as she reached out for Ron and Harry, who no longer stood at her side.

Hermione sucked in a breath and held it in order to keep herself from trembling. "We found it," she said as though she didn't understand what the big deal was. "Why? What is it?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Mudblood!" Bellatrix flew at Hermione, wand so close to her eye she was terrified of blinking. _"Crucio!"_

Hermione crumpled to the floor in agony as a thousand steel knives cut into her flesh from all sides. Her head pounded as electric shocks flowed through her nerves, finding new pathways starting at the top of her head and burning their way down to the tips of her toes. No strength, she collided hard with the floor, her body thrashing. Then all at once, the pain stopped, leaving Hermione panting on the floor, desperate to run but physically unable to move.

"Where did you get it?" Bellatrix whispered in her ear, and she couldn't help but cry in response, unable to form words—least of all the truth. "Hold her up!" Bellatrix ordered, barely glancing over her shoulder where Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco stood watching. "Do it!" Suddenly, Draco fell against the floor with wide eyes. He turned and shot a terrified look at his father, who had clearly pushed him forward. The blond boy shook his head slightly, and Lucius snarled in response.

Slowly, Draco made his way over toward his aunt and Hermione.

"Pick her up Draco, hold her against the wall. I'd like some target practice." Bellatrix grinned madly.

Hermione watched as Draco approached her. He swallowed hard and reached for her arm, hoisting her up and pushing her against the wall. Through blurry eyes, she could tell he was terrified. There was also a hollow, emptiness about the boy. This Draco reminded her much of the Draco she had seen at Hogwarts the year before. Sickly and scared, eyes sunken, and skin much paler than she'd ever before seen. Only now, he looked much worse.

A part of her wondered what he had seen. What had been happening on this side of the war since she, Harry, and Ron had Disapparated from the Burrow all those months ago?

" _Diffindo_!" Bellatrix shouted over and over again, and Hermione felt small cuts opening against her legs, chest, and stomach. She screamed in agony and turned, almost pleading to Draco with her eyes. The boy shut his own tightly, too horrified to watch, and he looked sickened to be forced to participate.

 _"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"_

 _"We found it... we found it...PLEASE!"_

 _"Liar! Crucio!"_

Hermione's whole body tensed and fell forward. Draco attempted to catch her, keep her against the wall as he'd been instructed, but she unwillingly fought against his hands and collapsed to the floor. Unable to watch any longer, Draco covered his mouth with his hand and moved back to his mother's side. Narcissa pulled him close, and Lucius moved to put a hand on his son's shoulder, which Draco flinched away from instantly, his eyes furious.

 _"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"_

 _"Nothing!"_ Hermione screamed. Her mouth was suddenly covered, and she whimpered loudly into the fabric of Bellatrix's sleeve as the Dark witch pressed her arm against Hermione's jaw, muffling her screams. She waited for the Cruciatus Curse again, pleading for death at the same time. Her only solace was Ron's voice echoing in the distance, screaming her name from somewhere below. She clung to his voice with all the hope she had left inside of her . . . which was swiftly evaporating.

Suddenly, her forearm felt hot and burned with pain. Hermione flinched, trying to pull it away but a spell kept it locked in place. She screamed as the pain increased, her skin feeling wet as the blade continued to carve into her flesh.

 _"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"_

"Hermione!" Ron called to her. "Hermione!"

Her eyes opened wide and looked up into Ron's worried face. She was soaking with a cold sweat, embarrassed as he hovered over her on the bed in Shell Cottage. Immediately, she burst into tears and felt herself be pulled into his arms. Cradling her head against his chest, she sobbed.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

* * *

 **May 1997**

 _"Never mind that stuff ... Is it true? Did you break into Gringotts? Did you escape on a dragon? It's everywhere, everyone's talking about it."_

The trio almost laughed in reply to Neville's excited query. Yes, they had broken into Gringotts. Yes, they had escaped on a dragon. Though their break-in was only successful in the fact that they had made it out alive with a Horcrux intact—every other part of the plan had essentially gone to hell. Betrayed by a goblin, burned and scarred by cursed objects inside of the vault, and then dropped into freezing water off the back of a blind dragon. It had not been one of their finer moments as far as Hermione was concerned.

 _"Yeah, it's true," said Harry._

 _Neville laughed gleefully._

 _"What did you do with the dragon?"_

 _"Released it into the wild," said Ron. "Hermione was all for keeping it as a pet"_

 _"Don't exaggerate, Ron... "_

 _"But what have you been doing? People have been saying you've just been on the run, Harry, but I don't think so. I think you've been up to something."_

And they _had_ indeed been up to something. As the trio crawled into Hogwarts following Neville through the tunnel opened by Aberforth Dumbledore, Hermione realised just how long they had been gone. She knew the war was raging on all around them while they had been in hiding and on the hunt for Horcruxes—Malfoy's appearance at the Manor had told her as much—but to see the battle-worn students inside the Room of Requirement . . . It all became very, very real.

Seamus and Neville looked the worst by far. Former members of Dumbledore's Army—plus several more—bore the physical reminders that Hogwarts was no longer a safe haven. The place she had always considered her home in the magical world had been turned ugly and horrible, infected by Death Eaters. It made her sick to think about what had gone on in her absence. It also filled her with pride seeing her friends before her—warriors, all of them.

The portrait opened up behind them in a commotion and through it stepped Fred and George Weasley, Cho Chang, Luna, Dean, Lee Jordan, and Ginny.

Hermione beamed as she watched Harry's gaze light up at the sight of the redhead. Ron caught the stare between the two as well, and just in case, Hermione reached a hand out and held him back. But instead of reacting to Harry and Ginny, Ron took Hermione's hand in his own and smiled.

 _"Listen, I know it's not much of a lead, but I'm going to go look at this statue, at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know... the other one...safe."_ Harry told Ron and Hermione.

She looked up, barely catching his last word before he left the Room of Requirement, and Hermione felt something clench in her chest as Harry disappeared from her sight. It seemed anytime they were separated, something terrible happened.

A horrible sense of foreboding washed over her. "I'm going to see if anyone needs help. Fleur restocked my dittany and healing salve supplies. We're going to need everyone in good shape for . . ." She paused, dreading the thought of an attack. Even an escape back through Hogsmeade was unbelievably dangerous. Getting a hold of herself, Hermione smiled softly at Ron, squeezed his hand, and then let it go to tend to the others.

Fred approached Ron from behind with a grin. "You and Granger look awfully cosy, ickle brother."

"How long's it been since we've seen our baby brother, Fred?" George asked.

"Nine months, brother mine."

George chuckled. "Has it been nine, long, _long_ months, Ronnie?"

"What are you two on about?" Ron rose a confused brow, turning to notice each of the twins rolling a small drawstring bag in hand.

"Just curious to see if—"

"—our little gift last summer—"

"—has paid off."

"What gift?" Ron snapped.

" _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ ," the twins responded together.

Ron blinked a few seconds, not quite catching on until Fred and George winked at him simultaneously. Eyes widening slightly before narrowing, Ron growled, "Piss off!"

"Not been shagging then?" Fred asked point blank. When Ron bristled and remained silent on the matter, Fred grinned and held out his hand to his twin brother, who placed the bag of coins in his hand.

Ron eyed the exchanged. "What's this?"

"Never you mind," George said with mild disappointment. "You at least snogged her yet?"

Ron's eyes widened. "You're _betting_ on this?! I-I-I . . ."

Fred winced and handed George back the small bag of coins with a sigh.

Ginny approached, squeezing herself between her twin brothers. "Did you tell her you love her?"

Ron's mouth fell open and he shoved his hands nervously into his pockets—his ears turning pink; his lips forming a tight angry line. All three of his siblings shook their heads at him, but it was Ginny who broke out in a victorious looking smirk as Fred and George handed to her what looked like a very small fortune. She walked up to Ron, kissed his cheek before turning toward her gathered friends.

"Oi! It's not like we've been staying at a private bloody resort!" Ron snapped at his siblings.

Fred looked over to George, ignoring the current darkening purple of Ron's face. "New bet?"

Suddenly, there was a loud bang echoing outside the walls. The entire room fell into complete and utter silence as every eye turned to face each entrance and exit with their wands drawn, as though waiting for the inevitable. After several moments of nothing, the twins each put a hand on Ron's shoulder, the briefest moment of seriousness that they could allow, as the brothers gave silent words of love.

Hermione swiftly found her way back to Ron's side, gripping his hand as her eyes stared ahead. "It's starting," she whispered, the colour beginning to drain from her face as she found herself failing to summon the courage needed to properly go into battle. A _real_ battle. No longer running from Snatchers and Death Eaters, Apparating out of weddings, and riding dragons to safety.

This would be it.

The room once again began bustling about as everyone prepared themselves for a fight.

"You got the . . . thing?" Ron mumbled to Hermione, feeling the sudden lack of warmth on his shoulders as Fred and George moved away into the centre of the room, tossing out suggestions and such to the gathered students and D.A. alumni.

Hermione nodded. "In the bag. Not like we'll be able to do anything about it. Even if Harry finds the other one, how are we going to destroy them?"

Ron sighed in frustration. "I don't know."

"Unless there's a spare sword of Gryffindor in the attic," she said and gave a sad laugh.

"Yeah or a spare basilisk in the baseme—" Ron's eyes went wide. Without a word, he grabbed her hand tightly, dragging her toward the door.

She yelped as she almost stumbled over a few third years. "Ron, where are we going?"

"To the bathroom!"

Hermione made a face. "Do you really need my company for that?"

Ron turned and cupped her face in his hands. "'Mione, can you just trust me?" he asked with a hopeful grin.

"Of course." She smiled, letting his optimism fill up the empty spaces inside where her hope had seemed to die.

Ron took up her hand again and slipped out the door. Slowly and quietly, the two made their way around corners, watching out for the Carrows or any other roaming teacher. Their worst fears were running into Snape or any Slytherins; though truth be told they were each looking for a good fight at this point—adrenaline running high.

They made their way down to the second floor, stopping only once when Ron caught sight of a broom in an unlocked classroom and snatched it. He grinned as he turned a corner and darted into a bathroom, Hermione on his heels.

"Myrtle?" Hermione asked in a whisper, hoping to _not_ encounter the crying ghost who could easily give away their position. Though they had gotten along well enough in the early years, Myrtle had been known to be a little biased against the trio after Harry almost killed Malfoy the year prior.

"Quiet, Hermione. I need to concentrate," Ron said as he approached a sink.

Her eyes widened, doubling in size. "Ron is this what I think it is?"

She approached him slowly and watched as he whispered to the sink. As she leant closer, he whispered again, but as she strained to hear, the sound turned from a whisper into a horrible hissing noise. Before she could say a word about what she assumed he was trying to do, the sink began to move, dropping into the ground and out of sight, revealing a large pipe beneath it.

"Ron . . . But you're not a-a-a—" she stammered in absolute and utter shock.

"Not a Parselmouth?" Ron grinned. "No, but despite what you might have said in the past, I am apparently a good listener."

"Harry?"

"He had to use parseltongue to open the locket," Ron said, reaching for her hand. "Ready to see something bloody disgusting?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. As long as there's not a troll down there, I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself." Ron chuckled and jumped down the pipe followed swiftly by Hermione, who let out a loud scream until the two hit the bottom.

She winced as she landed on her hands and knees. "Ugh," she groaned and then looked down as rodent skeletons and water moved around her. "I'm not fine! I am _not_ fine! This is disgusting!"

"You should have seen it five years ago. At least the smell is gone."

"The smell is _gone_?!" Hermione looked up at him wide-eyed. "This is the smell being _gone_?" She suddenly felt grateful that she had been petrified during their second year. Standing up, she reached for her wand, just in case, as she turned to follow Ron down a long hallway.

"Wow, it's still here," Ron observed as he approached the long basilisk skin. "I would have thought that Snape would have come down to collect it. Grind it into some sort of basilisk fertiliser or something. Maybe make some really big snakeskin boots," he added with a chuckle.

"I can't believe you can laugh at a time like this," she whispered to him in a scolding tone as they continued moving forward, stepping over the crumbled stones of what appeared to be a caved in wall. Hermione thought back to the stories she had been told by both boys over the years, and she was finally able to piece together the images of how things happened during their rescue of Ginny.

"Here we are. Never been through this bit," Ron admitted nervously, swallowing hard.

Hermione instinctively raised her wand up defensively as though the dead basilisk on the other side would suddenly spring to life and attack them once the door was opened.

Once more, Ron mimicked the hissing sound, looking up at the wall in front of them where two entwined serpents with emerald eyes stared back at them. The two snakes parted at his request, and the wall split in two, opening up to reveal the chamber beyond. Once it did, they came face to face with the skeleton of the long dead basilisk.

"You think they still have venom in them?" Ron's voice echoed in the chamber as he swiftly approached the large snake and began carefully ripping fangs out of its jaws.

Behind him, Hermione stared dead ahead at the skeletal frame of the large basilisk, her face contorted in anger and fear at the same time. "That thing almost killed me," she muttered under her breath.

Ron walked over when he noticed her absently scratching at the bandage that still covered her forearm, her eyes never leaving the basilisk—he was certain she wasn't even blinking. He swallowed hard and reached out, putting his hand over Hermione's to stop her from picking at her wound.

She huffed. "It tried to kill me."

"It didn't." Ron squeezed her hand and finally her eyes met his and he smiled at her.

Hermione took in a deep breath and slowly let out a shaky exhale, getting a grip on herself. "I'm getting really tired of things and people trying to kill us." She nervously laughed and Ron gave her a crooked smile.

"Ready to try and kill something back?" he asked her as he reached for her beaded bag for the Horcrux.

She blinked in confusion when she glanced down as he placed a basilisk fang into her hand. Eyes widening, Hermione shook her head. "No, no, no . . ."

"It's your turn." Ron nodded his head and closed her fingers around the fang. "Harry got the diary, Dumbledore got the ring, and I took care of the locket. If you want, we can draw straws on who gets to stab Ravenclaw's tiara."

"Diadem," Hermione corrected him out of habit as she stared down at the fang in her hand.

Rolling his eyes, Ron muttered, "Whatever." He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed until she looked at him. "You can do this."

"W-What's it going to do?" She had read about Horcruxes every day for almost an entire year. If anyone was more versed than her on the dark artefacts, she would be surprised. But she had never _destroyed_ one. Harry had spoken in great detail of the destruction of the diary, but all she had heard about the locket from Harry was that it had screamed; Ron refused to talk about it altogether. She looked down at Ron pleadingly as he took the cup from her and set it on the ground. "Harry said it could fight back?"

"I . . ." Ron began, but the words caught in his throat.

Hermione stared at him. "What? What haven't you told me?"

"Harry opened the locket," Ron said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he averted his gaze, "and _you_ came out of it. You and Harry both." He looked straight down at the floor of the chamber. Hermione's mouth fell open and her eyes widened at the revelation. "Only it was . . . It was horrible. You had red eyes, and you . . ." He winced at the memory. "You told me I wasn't any good, and that you wanted Harry, and not . . . me."

She watched with guilt as Ron seemed to relive the moment right in front of her.

"Said the same things to my face that the damned locket had been saying in my head the moment I put it around my neck."

Hermione knelt down on the ground in front of Ron—the cup between them. "Then what?"

Ron's face drew into an expression of momentary rage that caught her by surprise. "Then you turned and kissed Harry." He looked up at her, and she paled at his words with a look of mild disgust on her face that he couldn't help but immediately appreciate.

"That's . . ." Hermione shook her head at the thought. "Not _ever_. . ." She continued to shake her head, this time with her eyes closed as if trying to rid a horrible image out of her mind like an etch-a-sketch.

Ron let out a small chuckle. "Can't tell you how beautiful you are right now with that look of revulsion on your face," he said and beamed when Hermione let out a nervous laugh. After a few moments of silence, while their eyes met, Ron reached a hand up and cupped her cheek, affectionately rubbing the pad of his thumb against her skin.

"C'mon 'Mione," he said, and then he let go of her face and patted the hand that was tightly clenching the basilisk fang. "Kill that bloody thing."

Hermione took in a deep breath and raised the fang high above the cup. As if on cue, the Horcrux began shaking on the ground, sensing its inevitable doom. Ron scooted away from it and closer to Hermione, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder. "Stab it, Hermione!"

And she did.

The fang pierced through the cup as though it were flesh and not metal, and with it came a loud and terrifying scream that caused both Ron and Hermione to cover their ears. The cup began to thrash on the ground violently. They looked up as water began pouring out of the open mouth of Salazar Slytherin's statue ahead of them, swirling into a large whirlpool and gathering higher and higher.

Hermione reached for him. "Ron?"

A grim face appeared in the shadows of the rising wave as it pulled itself back against the wall like a spring ready to snap. Hermione's face paled as shadowy images within the water came into frame. Those of her parents, wide-eyed and terror-stricken, banging against the water as if it were a solid prison they were trying to escape from.

"No. I'm done with threats and lies," she said with disdain.

Immediately, the images of her parents faded, and the blurry serpent-like visage of Voldemort appeared in the water as it rose to the ceiling of the chamber. The horrible mouth opened and snarled, "Mudblood!"

At their feet the cup continued to bounce vigorously, the noise drawing Hermione's attention. Reaching for the Horcrux, she gripped the cup with one hand and the basilisk fang in the other, removing it from the metal before plunging it back in again and again with fervour. The face in the murky water screamed, and the tidal wave crashed down around the two of them, smashing against their bodies and pushing them out toward the exit where they both crashed hard against the wall on either side of the chamber door.

"'Mione!" Ron screamed as the wave died off. He stood up quickly and rushed to her side, where she knelt on her hands and knees, coughing up water. "You all right?" he asked her with panic in his voice.

Hermione reached up for him, using him as leverage to pull herself to her feet. Catching her breath, she panted heavily, still shaking a bit as Ron pushed her wet hair out of her face. "I'm fine," she said, not realising she was clinging to his jumper with clenched fists.

She looked up at him with a satisfied smile, and Ron grinned as he put his hands on her cheeks, staring deep into her eyes. She knew that look; she'd seen it at least one hundred times in the past year, but there was something missing from it: inhibition. Ron leant closer to her and Hermione's breath caught in her throat as his lips drew quickly closer to hers.

"Wait!" Hermione squeaked, and Ron came to an abrupt halt.

Ron groaned a little and rested his forehead against hers. "Distraction?"

"No," Hermione said on an exhale. "Just . . . don't you dare let our first kiss happen in the middle of battle. Save it."

" _First_ kiss?" Ron grinned at her. "As in first of—?"

"Shut up." Hermione blushed and pulled away from him, moving back to the centre of the chamber to retrieve the destroyed Horcrux. "Grab more basilisk fangs. We'll need them for the diadem and the snake."

Before either could say another word, a high, cold voice pierced through the walls and echoed through the chamber around them.

 _"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."_

"Oh no," Hermione whispered in terror.

Ron growled under his breath before taking Hermione's hand and heading for the exit. "We have to hurry before someone does something."

"You really think someone would betray Harry?" Hermione asked him, shifting her bag as they moved.

"That," Ron said as he reached for the broom he had brought with them, propped up against the other side of the wall in opposite the chamber, "Or Harry's bloody stupid enough to try and save everyone himself."

With a great deal of hesitation, Hermione climbed on the back of Ron's broom, the bundle of basilisk fangs tucked carefully under her arm as she clutched as tightly as humanly possible to his waist. He kicked off from the ground and the broom flew forward through the chamber door and sped through the tunnels at great speed. Ron with a determined look on his face as he steered ahead, Hermione screaming behind him.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

* * *

 **May 1998**

Once back on solid ground, Hermione jumped off of the broom. Had they not been in a bathroom, she might have kissed the floor. "I will never fly again!" She said with serious determination, Ron grinned in reply. The castle instantly shook around them as the wards outside began to take on serious damage.

"Must be after midnight," Ron said as he reached for Hermione, pulling some of the basilisk fangs into his hands just in case they were somehow separated at any point.

"At least we know Harry wasn't handed over," Hermione revealed the grim silver lining as they exited the bathroom swiftly, fangs gripped tightly in their hands. "Go back to the Room of Requirement!" She shouted at Ron as noise continued to echo throughout the castle. Friends and strangers rushed around them, many shouting, some giving orders, most following them as they headed in various directions. Hermione could tell that Ron hesitated as he moved up the stairs, his eyes looking with worry for his siblings while simultaneously scanning for Harry.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted and Ron turned back to see that her foot had fallen through the disappearing step in the staircase. He looked at her incredulously, but an immediate glare from her kept his mouth sealed tightly to prevent any sarcasm from leaking out of his lips. He pushed the broom handle down toward her and when she'd gripped the handle tight, Ron gave a good yank and pulled her back to her feet where she scrambled to pick up the fallen basilisk fangs.

 _"Where the hell have you been?" Harry shouted._

Ron turned and grinned at his best friend, grateful to see him alive more than anything.

 _"Chamber of Secrets," said Ron._

 _"Chamber... what?" said Harry, coming to an unsteady halt before them._

 _"It was Ron, all Ron's idea!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Wasn't it absolutely brilliant? There we were, after we left, and I said to Ron, even if we find the other one, how are we going to get rid of it? We still hadn't got rid of the cup! And then he thought of it! The basilisk!"_

Ron beamed with pride. She'd called him brilliant.

 _"What the...?"_

 _"Something to get rid of Horcruxes," said Ron simply._

 _"But how did you get in there?" he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. "You need to speak Parseltongue!"_

 _"He did!" whispered Hermione. "Show him, Ron!"_

 _Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise._

 _"It's what you did to open the locket," he told Harry apologetically. "I had to have a few goes to get it right, but," he shrugged modestly, "we got there in the end."_

 _"He was amazing!" said Hermione. "Amazing!"_

Ron grinned at Hermione, wiggling his eyebrows smugly and then looked to Harry as if to say, 'Did you hear that? She said I'm amazing.' Harry, in turn, rolled his eyes and brought himself back to the tasks at hand.

 _"So..."_

 _"So we're another Horcrux down," said Ron, and from under his jacket, he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff's cup. "Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn't had the pleasure yet."_

 _"Genius!" yelled Harry._

 _"It was nothing," said Ron, though he looked delighted with himself. "So what's new with you?"_

 _As he said it, there was an explosion from overhead: All three of them looked up as dust fell from the ceiling and they heard a distant scream._

The trio rushed as quickly as possible back to the Room of Requirement, the boys taking the steps sometimes three at a time while Hermione rushed to keep up with them. Once they arrived, they ran into Ginny, Tonks and a very determined looking Augusta Longbottom who trotted off down the steps leaving the rest of them wide-eyed with shock at Neville's Grandmother who seemed set to join the battle raging below, Tonks close behind, off in search of Remus.

 _"Ginny," said Harry, "I'm sorry, but we need you to leave too. Just for a bit. Then you can come back in."_

 _Ginny looked simply delighted to leave her sanctuary._

 _"And then you can come back in!" Harry shouted after her as she ran up the steps after Tonks. "You've got to come back in!"_

Ron stared after his stubborn sister, half tempted to chase her and drag her back to the safety of the room kicking and screaming if necessary, but his hands were currently full of poisonous monster fangs that he was struggling to keep hold of.

"Damn it, Ginny," Ron growled. "She should be somewhere safe with everyone else who -" and Ron paused as a thought suddenly occurred to him. " _Hang on a moment!" said Ron sharply. "We've forgotten someone!"_

 _"Who?" asked Hermione._

 _"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"_

 _"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Harry._

 _"No," said Ron seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want anymore Dobby's, do we? We can't order them to die for us—"_

But the rest of his words never left his mouth.

With no notice, the sound of basilisk fangs echoed against the floor as Hermione's lips crushed against Ron's. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her soft body melted against his frame. Hesitant in the split second it took for him to respond to her, but instinctively he ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips and Hermione sighed into his mouth her lips parting. Triggering a reflex deep inside of him and suddenly he found himself releasing his own fangs as his arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her body hard against him as he leant into the kiss, returning her affection with a frenzied passion. He lifted her off of the ground in a desperate need to get as close to her as possible, years of tension building between them threatened to snap him in half any second.

 _"Is this the moment?"_ Ron could hear Harry mutter behind him.

"Piss off, Harry," Ron murmured before he shut out the rest of the world and returned to Hermione's mouth, tasting as much of the witch— _his_ witch—as was possible.

 _"Oi! There's a war going on here!"_

Ron growled as Hermione pulled herself together, breaking their kiss, the sudden lack of her made him dizzy as if the very breath had been pulled from his lungs. His eyes opened but his lids remained heavy in the aftermath as he turned and looked at Harry, the very smallest part of him bitter at his friend was being overshadowed by the massive amount of elation on his face.

 _"I know, mate, so it's now or never, isn't it?"_

 _"Never mind that, what about the Horcrux?" Harry shouted. "D'you think you could just... just hold it in until we've got the diadem?"_

 _"Yeah... right... sorry..."_ Ron said, his head still a bit fuzzy as he and Hermione leant down to retrieve the fallen basilisk fangs.

As the trio stepped back out of the Room of Requirement so that Harry could request it to open the Room of Hidden Things, Ron turned to Hermione with a stupid grin on his face, unable to remove it from his jaw. "Don't let our first kiss be in the middle of battle," he said, mocking her. "You hypocrite."

Hermione blushed and looked away from him, using a free hand to fan her face.

She tried to focus her attention on searching for the diadem once they'd entered the Room of Hidden Things, but the massive amount of things in the room—coupled with her lingering thoughts on their kiss—had cracked Hermione's concentration. The three split up in order to cover more ground in the massively large room, and soon she could no longer hear either of the boys.

She searched and searched, getting momentarily distracted by lost and ancient looking books, old scrolls, a massive littering of near empty Firewhisky bottles and old Quidditch gear. She shook her head in disgust as she stumbled upon what looked to be the skeleton of a niffler. A loud noise caught her attention and she turned her head to see the mountains of things begin to topple like an avalanche toward her. Hermione screamed and dove for cover, just barely escaping a large wardrobe that collapsed just behind her.

"Ron!" She screamed. "Harry!" Her feet took off down a path, desperate to find the both of them. She wasn't certain what had happened, but something told her the collapsing piles of items in the room wasn't an accident.

 _"Stop!"_ She heard someone yell. A male voice. Not Ron or Harry.

 _"So? I'm not killing him, am I?"_

Killing who? Hermione's eyes widened and she ran faster.

Running around the corner she spotted them. Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy with wands aimed in Harry's direction. Without time to stop and think, Hermione raised her wand and send a silent stunning spell toward Crabbe who appeared to be the greatest threat considering his body language. Malfoy saw her coming though and pulled his friend out of the way.

 _"It's that Mudblood! Avada Kedavra!"_ Crabbe yelled.

"No!" Malfoy screamed.

Hermione dove and fell to the ground just as a stream of green light passed over her head. It was one thing to have Death Eaters shooting Killing Curses at her, but people her own age? Sure they were Slytherins, and all three were despicable, but she never thought that they'd actually resort to murder like their parents. Suddenly Hermione felt even more afraid. Death Eaters were at least predictable.

She crawled on the ground, ducking beneath old tables, desks and chairs that had been piled onto one another, creating another large mountain of furniture. Spells flew overhead and she watched through breaks in the furniture as Harry shielded himself and then threw his own stunning spells, both silent and verbal.

 _"Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" Malfoy yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both aiming at Harry._

Hermione moved quickly, attempting to get around the three Slytherins to take them from behind when an elmwood wand fell from the hand of its caster and rolled a few feet in front of her. Eyes wide, Hermione moved quickly to grab it, but just as she reached for it, another hand flew out and took hold.

Her brown eyes looked up to meet the silver-grey of Draco Malfoy who instead of sneering at her viciously as he was often prone to do, looked frozen. Time briefly stopped as the witch and wizard held their wands facing the other, waiting for one to make the first move. Hermione's eyes never wavered, holding her stare, but Draco's gaze broke as he looked to her wand and then briefly upwards to her arm where the word 'Mudblood' scarred otherwise flawless flesh. He physically recoiled as though she'd hexed him, dropping the wand which then rolled away completely out of reach, and in a split second, she could almost see guilt upon his face.

Hermione winced regrettably as she lowered her wand and stood to run in the opposite direction, something that seemed to snap Draco out of his stupor and stand up himself. Once back in the fray, the two turned on one another and Hermione sent a stunning spell toward him which Malfoy jumped away from. Suddenly Ron appeared, shooting a binding curse at Crabbe which missed.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed just as Crabbe turned and sent a Killing Curse at the redhead, who thankfully dodged it.

 _A roaring, bellowing noise behind her gave a moment's warning. She turned and saw both Ron and Crabbe running as hard as they could up the aisle toward them._

 _"Like it hot, scum?" roared Crabbe as he ran._

 _But he seemed to have no control over what he had done. Flames of abnormal size were pursuing them, licking up the sides of the junk bulwarks, which were crumbling to soot at their touch._

"Fiendfyre," Hermione whispered in absolute horror.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice snapped her out of her stare. "Get on the broom!" She turned and spotted Ron and Harry mounting brooms as the flames continued to engulf the room around them.

"Where'd they go?!" She yelled at Harry who seemed to be thinking the same things that she was. Slytherins or not. Enemy or not. Malfoy or not. They couldn't leave them here inside the blazing inferno.

"There!" Harry yelled and pointed down.

 _"IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" roared Ron's voice, and, as a great flaming chimaera bore down upon them, he and Hermione dragged Goyle onto their broom and rose, rolling and pitching, into the air once more as Malfoy clambered up behind Harry._

The two brooms carrying the five of them flew out of the room, flames licking at their heels and just as they exited, the door sealed shut behind them. Hermione fell off Ron's broom quickly, her attempts at holding Goyle up failed miserably as the unconscious boy dragged her to the floor. She panted hard, coughing in order to breathe the clean air, forcing smoke from her lungs.

 _"C-Crabbe," choked Malfoy as soon as he could speak. "C-Crabbe..."_

 _"He's dead," said Ron harshly._ Hermione briefly caught the strange relief on Malfoy's face which was immediately replaced by what could have only been shock and grief. She shook her head. This was what war did. This was what prejudice did. How could they not see it?

 _"Fiendfyre... cursed fire... it's one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it's so dangerous... how did Crabbe know how to... ?"_ She watched closely as the diadem in Harry's hand broke apart with a scream and black, blood-like substance oozed out of it.

 _"Must've learned from the Carrows," said Harry grimly._

 _"Shame he wasn't concentrating when they mentioned how to stop it, really," said Ron, whose hair, like Hermione's, was singed, and whose face was blackened. "If he hadn't tried to kill us all, I'd be quite sorry he was dead."_

 _"But don't you realise?" whispered Hermione. "This means if we can just get the snake... "_

 _But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of duelling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts._

Catching sight of Percy and Fred up ahead a few yards, the trio darted off to help them in their duels against Death Eaters. Hermione threw a few stunning spells forward, doing her best to move without wincing. Though the fire had never touched any of them, the room itself had essentially turned into an oven, and she could already feel the burns on her legs.

 _"Hello, Minister!" bellowed Percy. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"_

 _"You're joking, Perce!" shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee._

 _"You actually are joking, Perce... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were..."_

 _The air exploded._

"W-wha . . . " Hermione moaned as her vision came back into focus. Nothing but rubble surrounded her and a cold gust of wind made her look to the left where she could clearly see outside the castle. They'd blown off a part of the castle and Hermione could look down and see the onslaught below. She heard screaming in the distance but couldn't tell how far away as the explosion had caused all noise to become fuzzy in her ears like she was under water.

"Mione!" She heard a voice and felt a tug on her arm. Her eyes turned to see Harry pulling her to her feet where they both stumbled over the wreckage.

"Oh no," she saw Harry mouth the words and her attention was drawn where his eyes focused.

 _Three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart._

 _"No.. no.. no!" someone was shouting. "No! Fred! No!" And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face._

It was surreal. Hermione moved forward as though the war had suddenly paused to allow this moment of grief. She felt tears burning her vision horribly, but the adrenaline in her veins somehow helped to keep them from spilling on her cheeks as she reached for Ron. But the war hadn't paused and soon curses again flew overhead and Harry and Hermione needed to be the strength now.

Harry struggled to get Percy's attention and pull him off of Fred's body so that they could move him somewhere safe until they could come back for him. Hermione meanwhile pushed Ron ahead of her, moving him out of direct danger as giant spiders began infiltrating the castle. Once he'd seemed to regain the strength in his legs, Ron turned and a look of fury and rage on his face had Hermione terrified.

"No, no, no!" She insisted, throwing herself in his path as he seemed determined to follow off after the Death Eaters in silent revenge. "Ron! Ron!" She tugged at him with all the strength she had left in her and managed to drag him behind a tapestry.

 _"Harry, in here!" Hermione screamed._

Ron fought against her grip but she wrapped her arms tightly around him in an attempt to still him from running off after Percy.

 _"Listen to me... LISTEN RON!"_

 _"I wanna help... I wanna kill Death Eaters..."_

She whimpered and finally the tears overflowed as she took his face in her hands. He shook against her, his rage vibrating his body as he fought to fight back against her for keeping him there.

 _"Ron, we're the only ones who can end it! Please... Ron... we need the snake, we've got to kill the snake!" said Hermione._ She felt him grip her arms as if she was the only thing holding him up, keeping him there, keeping him steady on his feet. He held so hard to her that she was certain she would bruise from the contact, but she couldn't shake him off now. She would have to be the wall that he steadied himself against in his grief.

 _"We will fight!" Hermione said. "We'll have to, to reach the snake! But let's not lose sight now of what we're supposed to be d-doing! We're the only ones who can end it!"_

Finally, he broke against her, wrapping his arms around her frame and pulling her into his embrace. Hermione sobbed as she wrapped her arms fiercely around his neck, burrowing her face in the crease of his shoulder. She kissed his skin in comfort and ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Silently they held one another, but they couldn't stay like that. The time for mourning would have to be later.

 _Still keeping a tight hold on Ron, she turned to Harry. "You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it, Harry... look inside him!"_


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter Thirty-Five**

* * *

 **May 1998**

Wasn't it just an hour ago that they escaped the castle only to come face to face with Dementors? Was it just an hour ago that the trio stood together, struggling side by side to summon a proper Patronus in order to fight back? A few lingering wisps of silver and the brief shapes of a terrier and an otter before nothing. Nothing until they were saved by the strong silver glimmers of a hare, a boar and a fox. Luna, Ernie and Seamus had saved them.

 _"That's right," said Luna encouragingly, as if they were back in the Room of Requirement and this was simply spell practice for the D.A. "That's right, Harry...come on think of something happy..."_

 _"Something happy?" Harry said, his voice cracked._

 _"We're all still here," she whispered, "we're still fighting. Come on, now..."_

Something happy.

Was there anything left?

A struggle under the Whomping Willow and a horror in the Shrieking Shack as the trio watched from a hidden place behind a crate beneath the invisibility cloak as Voldemort himself ordered the death of his favoured minion - Severus Snape. Just as quickly as they'd arrived, Voldemort left the shack, snake in tow, leaving a dying Death Eater in his wake. All over a bloody wand.

At Hermione's insistence, the trio emerged from the cloak to face their former Professor. Harry appeared to look sickened by the sight of the man who murdered Dumbledore. Hermione buried her face in the crook of Ron's arm, horrified by the sight of the bleeding man. Ron himself refused to look away. He imagined he'd immediately feel justice had been served, but in the end, all he saw was pity.

Maybe he was just numb. Maybe Fred's death made him unable to feel anything.

 _"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."_

 _Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads frantically, looking at Harry._

 _"Don't listen to him," said Ron._

Once the trio returned to the castle, an eerie silence filled Hogwarts. Ron's tired eyes searched quickly for his family, and upon counting the number of redheads he could spot, a sharp pang hit him in the chest. Two were missing. Charlie, who he knew hadn't yet arrived, and Fred. No longer numb, Ron reached for Hermione's hand and pulled her toward his family, all gathered around Fred's body. He didn't release her from his grip until she wrapped her arms around Ginny who immediately broke into sobs.

Ron slowly approached his brothers and parents, unable to look at his weeping mother. He couldn't. It would break him. His red eyes looked up, taking in the image of Percy first. He'd barely registered that his older, estranged brother had joined the fight let alone had been by Fred's side during the explosion. Unable to bear the thought of losing another brother, Ron opened his arm to Percy who gripped him tightly, crying loudly into Ron's shoulder, professing remorse, begging forgiveness. Ron silently gave it by squeezing him back and soon found himself and Percy both enveloped in Bill's arms.

Eventually, they broke apart and his eyes fell on the ground where his mother brushed the fringe away from Fred's forehead. There was a lingering smile on his fallen brother's face that almost brought a bit of hope to Ron. He went out laughing. The thought would have made him smile had he not seen his opposite and yet mirror image in George's face as he knelt beside his twin. While Fred looked happy and peaceful, George looked . . . broken. Shattered even. Fragmented so completely that Ron wondered if the pieces would even fit when they somehow figured out how to possibly reassemble him.

He fell to his knees beside his brother and wrapped his arms around him. Nothing needed to be said. George acknowledged his presence by gripping Ron's forearm tightly. Unable to look into Fred's face a moment longer, Ron glanced over his mother's shoulder at the bodies lined up beside his brother. Tonks. Lupin. He clenched a fist and held back a scream. Too many.

Too many.

It wasn't until Ron caught sight of Oliver Wood carrying in the body of Colin Creevey that Ron let go of George and broke away from his family, moving quickly down a corridor out the Great Hall. He briefly heard Hermione's voice whispering, "I'll take care of him," before the doors closed behind him. He stumbled into a dark alcove of the castle and collapsed to the ground silently, his fists clenched tightly and his body shaking.

"It's too much," he was able to say aloud though the words felt broken in his mouth as he felt Hermione's arms cloak around his shoulders. Her tiny frame holding him up. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him, pressing his head against her chest if only to hear the beating of her heart.

"I know," was all she said in reply.

Ron sobbed against her and she held him tight, never saying a word. Her presence alone was enough to keep him alive in the moment, but she went above and beyond, running her hands through his sweat-slicked hair, rubbing his back consolingly, and kissing his dirt and soot smeared forehead. He cried so long and so hard that eventually, he had little left inside. Grief and anger had cleared him of nearly everything, searing his wounds from the inside out. Seeing that he'd stopped, Hermione put her hands against his cheeks and tilted his face upwards to look into her tear stained eyes.

Breaking away from her for a few seconds, Ron wiped his eyes and face on his torn jumper, momentarily shocked to see how burned and ripped it was. He glanced over Hermione's attire realising that she was in just as bad of shape.

"Are you okay?" He asked her quietly, his voice hoarse.

She let out a small laugh that immediately turned into a choked sob. "Are any of us?" She finally asked, shaking her head in reply.

The grief he'd let loose on her for well over an hour had taken so much with it, including fear over small and insignificant things, and without that fear to hold him back, Ron lifted her face into his hands and delicately pressed his lips against hers. This wasn't the passionate embrace they'd had in the floors high above them a few hours ago. This wasn't toe curling, skin prickling, blood boiling passion. This was healing, comfort and what little hope was left inside. This was love.

He loved her.

And though it wasn't the time to make such a vocal declaration, he needed her to know it through his actions.

He felt her hands press against his chest and for a split second he thought she was pushing him away until he felt her grip his clothes tightly in her fists and hold him there against her. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, he smiled. There was hope. She was still there with him. And there was hope.

Luna was right. Something happy. They were still fighting.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this break from the worst day of my life," Ron admitted softly against her lips. "But shouldn't there be a specky git around to remind us that this isn't a good time to be snogging?" He pulled away from her and looked around.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione asked as she released her grip on Ron.

"He's probably over by Lupin and Tonks," Ron attempted to choke back another sob, but quickly found that he had nothing left to give. He'd left all his grief in that dark alcove. It would come back again for certain, but for now, he couldn't seem to grasp it. There were priorities.

"Anyone seen Harry?" Ron asked as they re-entered the Great Hall. Bodies had been moved already and he caught sight of his parents lingering outside an old classroom where they had clearly moved his brother.

Bill and Fleur stood twenty feet away clearly discussing a plan of action with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall. He naturally assumed George was in the room with Fred's body, but he scanned the Great Hall in search of Ginny who walked into the castle helping a crying girl inside.

"Ginny where's Harry?" Ron asked immediately.

"He's not with you?" She paled. "I thought I saw him come in with you hours ago."

"He did," Hermione nodded. "Didn't he?" She suddenly felt terrible. She'd immediately gone with Ron to console the Weasley's, unaware of Harry entirely, having assumed he'd gone along with them. "Oh no," she whimpered. "Ron you don't think . . ."

"He wouldn't . . ." he shook his head and released Hermione's hand. "Harry!" He screamed and the name echoed in the Hall. Everyone turned to look at him. Eyes wide in mingled panic and fury, Ron yelled Harry's name once more, storming around the Great Hall in search for his best friend. "That stupid son of a bitch!" He shouted and people nearest him recoiled.

Hermione followed him around the room, attempting words to calm him down but the words continually seemed to catch in her throat as though she'd been given Veritaserum which prevented her from lying. Hermione knew where Harry was and what he was doing. She'd had a feeling about it for a long time now, and though it was terrifying to think about, she couldn't deny that Harry's absence seemed to confirm her worst assumptions.

Ginny was less calm as she followed her elder brother around the Great Hall. "Where is he!?" She screamed as she searched both living and dead, tears streaming down her face.

"Ginny." Hermione reached out for her friend who turned, pale and wide-eyed as she searched Hermione's face for answers.

"Please tell me he didn't," she begged Hermione. "Please tell me he wouldn't."

"He's not here." A voice broke through in an echo.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny turned to face a battered and beaten looking Neville.

"Nev?" Ginny looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering.

"He said he wasn't going to go," Neville explained. "But - " he gave a long pause, his eyes drawn to Hermione who only let out a soft cry as she turned and hid her face in Ron's shoulder. "Never was really good at lying," Neville whispered.

"No," Ginny whimpered. "I thought I felt . . ." she wrapped her arms across her chest. "I was out there," she pointed to the entrance doors to the castle. "Helping to bring in the..." she couldn't say the word 'dead' so she went with, "wounded." She shivered at the brief memory. "And I swear I felt... I smelled," she covered her mouth and shook her head. "He went into the forest," she sobbed.

"Neville you just let him -" Ron started but was suddenly face to face with a strangely solid Neville Longbottom who was nearly as tall as he was.

"Let him?" Neville asked. "Does anyone ever 'let' Harry Potter do anything?" He stood firm. "This is war, and he's not our only bloody concern." There was emotion and sympathy in his voice, but somehow Neville kept his composure.

"He's our . . . our only hope!" Ron shouted. "He's our bloody leader if he's not anything else!"

"Then if he is, I'm following his orders!" Neville shouted back and the room around them fell into complete silence. "I...I will-" Neville paused and took in a breath. "Kill the snake," he muttered quietly.

"What did you just say?" Hermione's mouth fell open and her eyes widened.

"Kill the snake, yeah?" Neville's eyes met hers. "Harry told me. Told me in case either of you were..." and he let his voice waver for a moment. "In case you were busy," he looked away feeling guilty. "Said to kill the snake. Said it was a part of a plan, that he'd be gone. Out of sight at least," he looked to Ginny. "There's always hope, Ginny." He offered her a smile.

 _"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."_

The high cold voice echoed through the walls as it had all night, and yet this time the cold seemed to penetrate the skin of each and every witch and wizard that heard it. Ron took in a sharp breath, Hermione gasped loudly, Ginny gripped Ron's arm and Neville paled.

 _"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."_

"Minerva!" Professor Flitwick's voice called out from the entrance. "Minerva, they're coming! They've got Hagrid."

The crowd quickly moved to the doors, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville at the front followed quickly with the rest of the Weasley family and the remaining members of the Order and students. Their eyes looked out across the grounds as they met a sea of black robes, most masked save for the few at the front. "Merlin," whispered Seamus. "We're... we're outnumbered by..." but he couldn't finish his sentence.

Professor McGonagall stepped out first, a physical declaration of her position in defending Hogwarts and the students within. Her eyes drew immediately to Hagrid as she stepped closer. Though it had been said aloud to every person that could hear, none believed it to be true until Minerva McGonagall screamed in utter despair at the sight of the body in Hagrid's arms.

Harry Potter was dead.

 _"No!"_

 _"No!"_

 _"Harry! HARRY!"_

Ginny's screams were by far the loudest and most painful and the young witch dashed forward in rage and grief only to be nearly tackled by her father to hold her back from running into the mass of Death Eaters, all too eager for the kill. Ron glowered ahead at the scene. Unable to feel grief anymore, he let rage and fury fill him up as he clutched Hermione close to his side. She cried heavily into his chest. Hours ago he'd lost his brother, and just now she'd lost hers.

She shook against him in anger that he'd rarely seen and suddenly she was out of his arms and screaming ahead at the crowd of Death Eaters, the fighters beside them yelling as well until their cries of anger, grief and rage echoed all the way to the Black Lake and back.

 _"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs! You see?" said Voldemort. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"_

No.

He wasn't just a boy. Harry Potter was Ron's best friend. He was the Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. He'd saved the Sorcerer's Stone, found the Chamber of Secrets, freed Sirius Black, and escaped the Tri-Wizard Cup and Voldemort. He'd saved Ron's life so many damn times, and he'd found and destroyed Horcruxes that Voldemort had hidden for decades.

Kill the snake.

Kill the snake.

Ron eyed the beast in front of them all and a determined look filled his eyes. Somehow Hermione and Neville seemed to be filled with the same thing as their eyes all connected and Ron gave a nod to each of them.

Kill the bloody snake.

 _"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more._

 _"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. "Killed while trying to save himself..."_

Suddenly Neville made a run for it. Anger filled his face as he darted forward his eyes full of purpose as he rushed toward Nagini. A part of him knew he'd never make it there, and certainly wouldn't get close enough to the snake let alone kill it, but Harry was dead and that didn't mean they gave up. Many people had died that day and the days and years prior to it. If Neville was one more, so be it. But he would try.

A red light hit him in the chest and he fell to his knees, surprisingly closer than anyone thought he'd get. The Death Eaters all laughed.

 _"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"_

Neville moved to stand, his fists clenched tight as he fought the pain wracked through his body and his eyes directly met those of Bellatrix Lestrange. Anger and vengeance rippled off of him in waves that permeated the air around him as he stared at the woman in front of him.

 _"Ah, yes, I remember. But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"_

 _"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly, his gaze turning to Voldemort himself._

 _"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."_

"Neville, a Death Eater?" Ron scoffed, "And I'm a hippogriff."

 _"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted._

A fire lit inside of the crowd behind Neville and Ron gave a shout, raising his fist into the air. He looked around and saw as members of Dumbledore's Army around him shouted in a united front. Ron was filled with pride at seeing how many of them there were. They outnumbered even the Order of the Phoenix now and that was Harry's doing. They hadn't been defeated. Not yet. Even if Harry was dead, they would fight on.

But something brought the silence once more as Voldemort froze Neville in place and summoned what appeared to be the Sorting Hat and put it atop Neville's head.

 _"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me," said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames._

"No!" Hermione screamed and made to move forward but Ron held her arm. They would fight, certainly, but he wasn't about to lose her.

 _They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earthquake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise._

"Get Neville!" Hermione shouted to Ron as the crowd around them rushed forward to attack as reinforcements from behind moved through the forest and into the grounds, pushing through the Death Eaters - almost half of whom ran for cover only to be picked off by archer Centaurs, duelling wizards and witches from Hogsmeade lead by Ron's own brother, Charlie.

 _In one swift, fluid motion, Neville broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle - The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke, Neville sliced off the great snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall._


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

* * *

 **May 1998**

Ron's eyes widened as he watched Voldemort's wand descend upon Neville to attack but before anything happened, a shield emerged around Neville's body. Ron blinked and turned back to Hermione who was no longer in the entrance to the castle. Assuming that someone else had cast it, as Neville was presently unarmed save for the Sword of Gryffindor, Ron yelled, "Neville run!"

His friend stood and rushed forward, retrieving his fallen wand and nearly colliding into Ron in the process as the two met in the middle. They both turned and dashed toward the Great Hall, Ron covering Neville's back as they moved.

"Did you see?!" Neville yelled with wide eyes. "I killed it! I killed the snake!"

"Bloody right you killed the snake!" Ron yelled in triumph. "It's going to end," he nodded to his fellow Gryffindor. "We're going to end this now, Neville," Ron said with determination before a loud noise caught his attention and he turned to see another crowd fall in behind the Death Eaters.

Horace Slughorn close behind approached the castle with students flanking him. Shock covered Ron's face as he watched the very small handful of what appeared to be Slytherins draw their wands and fall upon the Death Eaters with a striking force.

"What in the name of Merlin... " Ron's eyes widened.

"I really don't know how to feel about this... " Neville said as he stared at the sight in front of them in bewilderment.

Suddenly a burst of green flew overhead and both boys ducked.

"Well, moment of shock is over," Neville proclaimed. "Fight?" He suggested and Ron nodded quickly as the two dove forward picking off two Death Eaters that were immediately trapped between themselves and two Slytherin students behind them. The Slytherins, both girls, looked determined but frightened as the Death Eaters attempted to overpower them. When the boys arrived to help, they looked mildly relieved though a bit annoyed that they needed help to begin with.

"Stupefy!"

"Impedimenta!"

As the boys rushed the attack, the Death Eaters spun, dodging and countering the curses immediately.

"Protego Duo!" One of the Slytherin girls cried and suddenly two shields erupted around Neville and Ron, protecting them both from the curses. Shocked but delighted, the Gryffindors set back on the Death Eaters with vigour, and all four teenagers yelled, "Stupefy!" at once, knocking the Death Eaters to the ground.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron grinned.

"You can do a double shield?" Neville looked at the younger of the two girls.

"It's nothing," she shrugged her shoulders with a mild smirk on her face.

"Who the hell are you?" Ron asked, still shocked to see green and silver on the right side of the attack.

"Daphne," the elder girl smiled.

"Astoria," the younger replied.

"And you're really Slytherins?" Neville asked sceptically, both girls laughed in reply but nodded.

"Not that we aren't grateful, but why are two pureblood Slytherins fighting against Voldemort?" Neville asked quickly, his eyes glancing around as the foursome moved through the crowd and further into the Great Hall where more fighting had erupted.

Daphne seemed to defer to her younger sister to answer the question. Astoria merely smiled, though a look of pain briefly crossed her face. "You're not the only ones in danger of losing people you love," she admitted.

Before anyone could say another thing, lights streamed over their heads and they all ducked. Ron looked up as he heard a low growl and spotted Fenrir Greyback eyeing the girls with great interest. Remembering that look from the Forest of Dean and inside Malfoy Manor, Ron took a defensive stand in front of the two girls. Slytherin or not, he was done watching this werewolf stare down women with violent lust in his eyes. This was unfinished business.

"Out of my way ginger," the werewolf growled. "I see some tasty looking snacks."

Neville moved to stand beside Ron, wands extended and instantly the two began to duel Fenrir. Unfortunately, the werewolf was a strong fighter and soon it took every ounce from both of them just to keep him on his toes. Daphne and Astoria attempted to help, but anytime either of them moved, Fenrir moved to attack, once actually getting a good grip on Daphne's robes. Neville moved to help but received a kick to the stomach, sending him back into a pile of rubble. Ron rushed forward and took the same hit, falling backwards and hitting his head on the marble floor.

"Petrificus Totalus!" A nearby Death Eater pointed at the girls and gave a grin and a nod to Greyback before moving off to attack a group of students a good ten feet away.

Fenrir tugged on Daphne's robes eagerly, and pulled her swiftly toward him, another hand reaching out for Astoria's foot. Both girls frozen in fear and unable to move as the werewolf descended upon them.

"Think I'll take the young one first," he grinned down at Astoria who looked like she was trying to scream.

"No!" Ron shouted as he moved forward to help, but before he could cast a single spell against Greyback, the werewolf let out a terrifying scream and his body contorted and thrashed, his limbs growing rigid as he howled out in great pain.

"Crucio!"

Ron's blue eyes widened in surprise and immediately looked for the source of assistance and only came upon a standing Draco Malfoy, hand extended outward toward Greyback and the most furious looking snarl upon his face that Ron had ever seen in the years they'd known one another.

"Malfoy?" Ron gaped.

"Revive them, Weasel!" Draco shouted, nodding his head toward the girls. He looked enraged but in serious pain as he struggled to hold on to whatever grip he magically had on Fenrir.

"Finite!" Ron pointed his wand at Daphne and then Astoria, both of whom immediately rose to their feet, rushing toward Draco.

"Go!" Malfoy screamed at them both.

"But..." Astoria began.

"I said go!" He shouted again, his eyes furious.

The moment that the girls vanished from the scene, Draco collapsed to the ground, blood dripping from his nose, clearly beyond exhausted. Ron stood staring at the blonde in what felt to be a strange admiration that he immediately stamped deep, deep down to never remember again. Ron's attention turned back to the werewolf.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Ron shouted. "Incarcerous!" He added and watched as ropes flew out of his wand, binding the werewolf as an extra measure.

"By all means Weasel," Draco muttered through shallow breaths. "Leave the deranged werewolf alive," he rolled his eyes and moved to stand.

"Draco!" A voice screamed and suddenly Narcissa Malfoy moved to his side, pulling him to his feet and into her arms. "Lucius get him out of here!" She yelled and suddenly Lucius Malfoy appeared at her side, pulling his son up by his arms and literally dragging him away from the scene, not giving a single look to Ron or anyone else in the room as they immediately looked for cover.

"Did..." Neville stood, rubbing his lower back. "Did I see Malfoy use the Cruciatus curse on a werewolf without a wand?"

"Say that five times fast," Ron suggested, his eyes still wide as he tried to process. "If you can do it, I still don't think I'll believe it and I watched the whole damn thing."

 _"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"_

Ron and Neville turned, both horrified to spot Bellatrix Lestrange facing off against Molly Weasley, Ginny, Hermione and Luna standing behind her. They both moved quickly, each desperate to help take down the evil witch that had caused the ones they loved much suffering.

 _"No!" Mrs Weasley cried as they ran forward, trying to come to her aid. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"_

Ron's eyes tore away from his mother briefly to look at Hermione who seemed to be alight with a fire as she stared ahead at the woman that had caused her so much suffering. A moment stuck between rapture and horror, Ron turned his gaze back to his mother who seemed determined not to accept aid from anyone though the gathered crowd kept their wands aimed properly, just in case.

 _"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly's curses danced around her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"_

 _"You- will- never- touch- our- children- again!" screamed Mrs Weasley._

 _Molly's curse soared beneath Bellatrix's constricted arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart._

 _Bellatrix's gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed._

It felt like it happened in slow motion. Elated over the death of Bellatrix, and feeling an equal amount of admiration and fear of his own mother, Ron turned to look at her and saw Ginny and Hermione rush to her side as they heard Voldemort scream. Realising quickly what was happening, Ron rushed forward and put his arms protectively around Hermione who stood in front of his mother, wand aimed through his arms at The Dark Lord behind them all.

 _"Protego!"_ A shield erupted, protecting them all. Wide eyes all turned to see Harry Potter emerge from beneath an invisibility cloak and the elation that filled Ron's chest nearly burst out of him at the sight of his best friend.

"Harry!"

"Harry!" Hermione let out a cry of relief and she gripped Ron tightly to hold her up. Once they had a few breaths to adjust to the sight of their until-very-recently dead best friend, Ron and Hermione took steps forwards, wands raised.

 _"I don't want anyone else to help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence, his voice carried like a trumpet call. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."_

They each stopped quickly in place, and just in case, Hermione held Ron's arm knowing that if anyone would dare to ignore Harry's wishes, it would be him first which would just trigger the onslaught of a crowd attacking the Dark Lord. Something she didn't exactly see wrong with except for the fact that many well-aimed curses could still somehow backfire or miss and friendly fire was something they'd not yet had to deal with.

The crowd watched as Harry and Voldemort circled one another, bantering back and forth each eyeing the other carefully, irises focused on the others wand. Voldemort seemed to recognise that Harry's wand was no longer the brother to his own original, and the wand in Voldemort's clutches was clearly the Elder Wand, though Hermione knew she had seen it before in the hands of Albus Dumbledore.

 _"You think you know more magic than I do?" Voldemort said. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"_

 _"Oh he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."_

 _"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"_

 _"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man."_

"Yeah!" Screamed a few in the crowd, Ron included.

 _"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, "I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"_

 _"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."_

"What?" Hermione whispered.

 _"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you starting hunting down my mother. And you never realised it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"_

"Oh Merlin," Hermione's amber eyes widened with immediate realisation. "The doe," she whispered in a gasp as she clutched tightly to Ron's arm. "The doe," she repeated. "It all makes sense now." Though there were some serious gaps she seemed to have, Hermione knew well enough how Patronuses worked. Tonks had taught them all last year when hers changed due to her love for Remus Lupin.

"What's he going on about, Mione?" Ron whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene.

 _"Snape's Patronus was a doe, the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realised. He asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"_

 _"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him..."_

 _"Of course he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"_

Everyone's eyes widened at the proclamation, murmurs and whispers filled the room and the few Death Eaters left in the room stared at Voldemort in mild horror at the revelation that Severus Snape had been a spy all along. Hermione's eyes cast across the room where she saw the Malfoy family gathered together in a huddle, trying as hard as they might to pretend they were invisible to the rest of the room. Lucius and Narcissa looked shocked, Draco looked grief-stricken and confused.

 _"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard... The Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance... The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."_

Gasps once again filled the room and Hermione and Ron's attention turned back to the Malfoy family, all of whom seemed to lose what little colour was left in their faces. Narcissa clung to Draco tightly and Lucius looked gobsmacked as the information fell out of Harry's mouth. Ron took a defensive stance, keeping his attention on Lucius who looked like he wanted to do something but lacked the wand to take action. However, after seeing Draco use impressive wandless magic just minutes earlier, he wasn't taking any chances.

 _"But what does it matter?" Voldemort said softly. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone... and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy..."_

 _"But you're too late," said Harry. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took his wand from him."_

All eyes in the room fell upon the hawthorn wand in Harry's hands. Hermione briefly glanced to Draco who looked petrified at the threat coming from Voldemort voice, and his eyes locked on the wand in Harry's hand with a desperate longing that the trio knew all too well. They'd all lost their wands over the last few months. It was like having a limb forcibly removed.

 _"So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?" whispered Harry. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does... I am the true master of the Elder Wand."_

 _A red glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of a dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur._

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

A loud bang followed by golden flames erupted from the scene, blinding all that dared look upon it with intensity though few looked away. In a blur, Hermione could see a wand flying high above the diminishing flames, dark against the rising sun in the distance, twirling above them all and descending below into the hand of its true master.

Harry Potter.

When everyone blinked the light out of their eyes, their stares fell upon the body of Tom Riddle, Harry standing over it victorious. Cheers erupted in a volume to rival that of the World Quidditch Cup and Hermione rushed forward, Ron at her side as the two quickly enveloped Harry in their arms.

"I knew it!" Hermione cried, kissing Harry's cheeks. "I knew you could do it!"

"Do me a favour, mate?" Ron asked with a grin. "Don't ever die on me again, yeah?"

Harry grinned in response before being immediately tackled to the ground by Ginny Weasley with a loud "Oof!" Ron and Hermione both laughed at the sight and watched as Harry beamed up at the redhead who, despite the increasing crowd around them, crushed her lips against Harry's with desperation. Some of their fellow students whistled, many of the adults gasped and blushed, but Ron laughed, something that surprised Hermione.

"You're okay with that?" She asked him with a bright grin.

"Hell," Ron shook his head laughing. "If anyone deserves a good snog right now, it's Harry."

"That's very mature, Ronald," Hermione smiled up at him.

"Well let's take a step away," he winced. "Just because I'm okay with it doesn't mean I want to look at it," he grimaced and pulled Hermione by the hand as the two made their way out of the crowd that was still descending upon Harry to shake his hand, pat him on the back, and give him their thanks and appreciation - much of which appeared to be physically deterred by a very protective looking Ginny.

"Hermione?" He turned and took both of her hands within his own, running calloused fingers over the soft skin of her knuckles. "Did we really do it? Did we survive?" He asked her with a crooked grin on his face.

"I think it's safe to say," she smiled nodding her head.

"And we aren't in imminent danger? No bloody Horcruxes or Dark Lord's or dragons or snatchers?"

"Pretty sure as of this moment we're in the clear," she beamed with relief.

"No distractions?" Ron grinned.

"I could use a little distraction," she smirked up at him with a flirtatious twinkle in her eyes. "I mean it is technically the future and all and we're perfectly sa-"

But her words were swallowed by him as he pressed his lips against hers triumphantly. With a joy that jumped inside of her chest, Hermione reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers as his threaded through her messy curls with greed. The celebration around them grew blurry in the wake of their embrace. Hermione squealed with delight as she felt one of Ron's hands move from the back of her head to her waist as he tugged her tightly against his body. She grinned against him at the feeling, desperately wanting more.

They could have more.

They were alive.

Ron broke away first and Hermione was quick to complain but before she uttered a single word he hushed her with a finger to her lips. She teasingly narrowed her eyes up at him before he took her face in his hands tenderly. "I love you, Mione," Ron said softly. The cheering crowd could have easily drowned his words had Hermione not tuned the screams out altogether.

Her heart pounded against her chest as bliss painted across her face in response to his sweet and simple words. She beamed up at him, putting both of her hands on the sides of his cheeks to make sure she wouldn't break eye contact with him. "I am so in love with you," she replied with a gentle laugh and nearly giggled as he grinned at her, lifting her small frame into his arms and spinning her.

"What now?" Ron asked as he put her down. "What do we do?" He looked around. "Hunting Horcruxes all year and now it's done. What's the plan?" He asked her with a laugh. They'd spent every day for months and months with a plan. A plan usually involving desperate leaps of faith, deadly enemies, and dangerous weapons. What the hell would they do without a plan?

"The plan," Hermione smiled up at him, relief flooding her eyes. "Is that we live."

"I could live with that," he grinned down at her.

 _All was well._

* * *

THE END


End file.
